The door appeared in places it shouldn’t. Once, it was at the end of a hospital corridor—past the last ward, where the lights flickered and the floor had never been polished. Another time, it stood between two shelves in a library, where no aisle existed before. Always the same door. Black. Smooth. No handle. And…
I woke up earlier than expected, the light slipping through my window like a quiet nudge. The day unfolded gently.…