The door knew

As he closed it

That he wouldn’t 

Be coming home

That evening

The walls of that dull hallway 

Had watched him

All these years

As he came and went

They oozed a kind of

Sap-like substance

Sweated with him

Beads descending imperceptibly

Hardening like old veins

Catching his jacket

As he brushed passed

Knowing what lay ahead

But too afraid to turn sideways

And see for himself


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