I opened that door and shouldn't have walked through.

I should have left that door locked tightly.

I should have covered it with a wardrobe so that I'd never get curious and open it again and again and again and again.

Or perhaps the door was always opened?

I just needed to walk through.

Or there never was a door, just a gaping hole in the Earth that I had the misfortune to fall into.

They look at me differently-or am I being paranoid?

Have they heard? Why are they looking at me like that? They know I'm right here.

I can feel everyone staring at me.

Do they know? Do they understand? Is this right? Is this wrong?

The door I walked through had not been untraveled, you know.

Was it bad that I wasn't afraid? I gladly leapt through, thinking nothing could harm me.

Pride before the fall, I suppose.

I was lost, I was found, and now...

I'm gone.

(March 2021)