I stand with my hand on the door handle; I can do this. Other people manage it all the time, after all; they walk open their door and walk outside as though it’s no big thing. But they don’t know what I know. They don’t know of the danger and animosity that’s waiting for them.
My flat is warm; it wraps around me like a blanket. When I stand at my front door, I feel like a tortoise; my face peaking out, but my body hidden, protected by the walls around me. There are too many people outside, they’re everywhere, crawling around like little ants, scurrying this way and that, unpredictable, confusing.
Two days ago, I sat at my dining table and drank coffee with Arthur, my friend. He understands. Before I learnt how to do my shopping online, he would buy groceries from the shop; a little bit at a time, as much as he could carry. Now, he brings cake and we drink coffee together; he says if he didn’t, I’d forget who I am, I’d simply fade away.
Sometimes he gives me flowers so I have a bit of the outside in my house.
He comes most days but today he’s late, two hours later than normal.
So I’m standing at my door, trying to leave my flat because I know Arthur needs me. He might be lying on his bathroom floor, unable to move. He might have broken a bone, or had a stroke, or… worse. I have to leave my flat, my protective shell. I have to help my friend.
Don't forget to check out the other challengers!