Mila stood in front of her new apartment. She had finally gotten her own place. She opened the front door. The apartment wasn’t bad. It was actually nice. To think she got this apartment at such a low price. She slowly walked around. A small hall, two bedrooms with bathrooms, and a kitchen. Pretty cozy right? The first room, the guest room, was small, and had a burnt-out bulb. But then she tried opening the main bedroom door.
She turned the handle.
The door didn’t open.
It didn’t lock either.
It just… didn’t feel like it.
Mila frowned.
She tried again.
Nothing.
Then, very clearly, the door made a sound:
”Nah.”
”What?” Mila was stunned.
She took a step back, withdrawing her hand quickly, like the door was white-hot.
“Am I dreaming or—“
”What’s wrong with you humans? Don’t you understand speech? I said nah.”
Now Mila was a very reasonable person, not startled so easily.
“Why?”
”Cause I don’t want to.”
”So… umm, what can I do?”
“Sleep in the hall.”
”Are you kidding me? It’s is literally my apartement. That’s my room.”
”Debatable.”
So, Mila spent the first night on her hall sofa.
The next day, she knocked at the bedroom door.
”Knock knock.”
”Who’s there?”
”It’s Mila. Come on, can’t we at least, negotiate?”
“No. Do I look like I run a negotiation business? Access denied. Go be someone else’s problem.”
Mila sighed. Over the next two weeks, she tried everything she could think of. She cleaned the door, begged it, flattered it, talked endlessly till the door shut up and locked itself, annoyed. Finally, she was out of options.
One day, after a particularly tiring schoolday, Mila came back, exhausted.
“You look terrible. Got caught in a hurricane?” asked the door as soon as she entered the appartement.
“What about it?” asked Mila carelessly.
She walked up to the door.
“If you would just let me in…”
She sighed. As she turned to go, she heard a soft click. She turned around. The door was slightly ajar. She stepped in cautiously.
“Umm, thanks.”
”You don’t have to make it weird.”
Inside was a very normal, ordinary room.
Yet something felt wrong.
A thin layer of dust covered everything—undisturbed, untouched. And yet, nothing was out of place. The bed was perfectly made, the desk aligned with the wall, every object arranged with unnatural precision.
It was too orderly. Like someone had tried a little too hard to make it look empty.
“Hey, door. Who lived here last? How long did they stay?”
“I should have just kept myself closed” muttered the door.
“Please.”
”Look, I didn’t let you in to question me. And you could at least call me something other than ‘Hey, door’. I surely deserve better than that” he replied, sounding offended.
Mila chuckled. A proud door?
”Which name do you want?”
”Just… gimme a nice name.”
“What about… Tor?”
“Tor, Tor, Tor…” It paused. “It’s acceptable.”
Another pause.
“Good job calling me ‘door’ without saying ‘door’. ”
“Would you mind answering my question now?” asked Mila.
The door creaked, like a sigh.
”No one has been living here for the past 10 years.”
“But the last one?” persisted Mila.
”An old scientist. Died of old age.”
”So, where did you come from? Did he genetically change the wood to make a personality from you?”
Pause.
”What kind of imagination is that?”
“I’m serious”.
”Too bad.” he replied, his voice thick with sarcastic regret.
What a sarcastic, witty door, thought Mila.
”Tor, please.”
The door creaked sharply.
”That line of questioning is unproductive.”
”That is not an answer.”
“Well,” he replied, “It’s the only one you’ll have.”
Mila went in pestering him for a while. Finally, the apartment grew very still, and no matter how she talked, Tor did not answer.
“Why does it feel still although there was no noise?” muttered Mila under her breath.
She quickly dusted the bed and soon was fast asleep, still wearing the clothes she came home in. She didn’t even bath or brush her teeth. She was exhausted physically and mentally, the argument with Tor having deepened her mental fatigue.
10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwV4wghdzlG
The next day, Mila opened her eyes to a totally unfamiliar ceiling. She got up and scanned the room, confused. Then she remembered.
“Tor?”
“Yeesh, I’m not your boyfriend. Why would my name be the first thing you say when you wake up?”
Mila blushed violently.
“I- it’s not like that!”
”Great. Tell me when you’re done blushing.”
Wait, can he see me? Mila turned to the door. Then… does it mean that if I’m dressing…
She turned to the door, horrified.
“What now?” asked Tor’s irritated voice.
”Can you see me?”
Silence.
“I absolutely cannot. I’m a door. I don’t have eyes.”
“How did you know I was blushing then?”
“Girls are predictable.” he relplied flatly.
Since it was a Saturday, Mila got up to arrange her things in the bedroom, making sure she always left the door widely open. As she lugged in a huge box of books, she stubbed her little toe on a sharp object— and dropped the heavy box on her foot.
“Oww—“
”Alert! Alert! Intrud—“ Tor’s voice rang out, mechanical.
Pause. Silence.
Then Tor’s voice cut through the silence, low, dripping with anger.
”Did you really have to stub your toe— your goddamn toe— on THAT?”
Mila froze, bewildered.
Hey, I stubbed my toe here! What are you angry for?
She pulled her foot from under the box. Blood was pooling around her nail. and it throbbed wildly. She turned to face the door.
“What in the world is going on?”
”I don’t need to explain myself.” replied Tor, curt and sharp.
“What even was that? Why is it there? It could have been worse you know.”
”End of discussion” he snapped, leaving no room for argument.
Then a low, constant hum filled the room.
“Do you hear that, Tor?”
The door stayed silent. Mila could almost feel it’s anger radiating from the walls.
“Tor…Tor?… TOR??!!”
“SHUT IT! YOU JUST HAD TO RUIN MY PROCESSING! AND YOU WONT LEAVE ME ALONE TO FIX IT!”
His voice dropped to a whisper, but it was full of threat.
“Stub your stupid toe on THAT again and see what happens, smartass. “
ns216.73.216.141da2
and then Add to home screen.