There is a palpable eternity formed behind the closed door.
An endless rift.
The room is still warm with breath, but it appears nobody was here.
Steel air whispers to itself, minding not to disturb the essence of the quiet.
As the day is placed in its corresponding folder and filed away, the room is turned onto its side.
All the furniture stays in place, securely fastened to the floor,
Waiting to flip right side up the moment the door is reopened.
Perhaps it’ll be tomorrow.
Or perhaps, it’ll stay tucked away.
It sits within arm's reach.
But it could remain hidden.
Or those two forgetful people, in that forgotten place, may just wait on either side of the door.
Halfway in love.
Waiting for the other to turn the handle.
As the light from the window wanes and the room runs cold, that steel air wisps into a muddle.
What will you do?
Pretty ghost

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