Through the Door

I pushed past the box flaps and stepped out into the open hall. The floor stretched far ahead, smooth and pale. I walked straight forward without turning. Ahead, a white door stood slightly ajar. I did not slow down. My shoulder pressed against the painted wood, nudging it open with a low creak. A wide room lay beyond, bright with sunlight hitting a striped rug. I kept marching until my foot bumped the heavy leg of a wooden table. I halted right there.