Two things.

One.

Ordinary days begin in ordinary ways, don't they? I'm not sure if that's a question or a statement. Do I need an answer? Probably not, so don't feel you need to give one.

Two.

Extraordinary days can begin in the most ordinary of ways, too. When we awaken, there's no way to discern which we're on the brink of experiencing. Most of the time, it's the former. We're on the travelator of life, allowing it to carry us where it wishes. On rare occasions, however, the path diverts. It branches off from the usual direction and gives us no warning. We are thrown into turmoil by the ensuing chaos, and hope we don't vomit along the way.

Today was planned as point one, just as every other day. Well, perhaps 'planned' is the wrong word. Expected, then. There would be no surprises in my Groundhog-like cycle of work, little rest, less play and fitful sleep. Why would there be? Life didn't usually allow us variations in the patterns it had set out. Order was supreme, or the fabric of the world would unravel. Or, at least, fray a touch at the edges.

I suppose I could be melodramatic, sometimes. I am talking about ordinary things in extraordinary ways, as if doing so might give the mundane some spectacle. It doesn't need it, though. It's fine as it is. Just 'fine', but that's... fine.

Today had yet to decide, I thought when it started, which it was going to be. There was nothing out of place. Nothing not exactly as it should be. Except...

It was difficult to pin down. I don't usually put faith in 'feelings' - as in a sort of sixth sense, rather than emotions. Maybe I'm a cynic. I prefer to see myself as a realist, but you say potato, I say spud. Today, something was off. Just off. It was a twist in my stomach. A chill along my arms. A shadow just on the edge of my vision. And it was none of those things. Annoying, really.

I tried to ignore it, hoping it would fade on its own. Some itches simply must be scratched, however, especially when feeling become seeing.

I'm struck by how calm I feel. I'm not afraid and nor am I particularly curious. Why is that? Surely, terror and wonder should rush in, take my hands and drag me into their chaotic stress-filled whirlwind. On the contrary, I am accepting of the immense figure standing before me. Over me, in fact. It is unlike anything I've seen before, and is certainly either not of this world or this... plane of existence?

It wants something from me. I'm trying to discern exactly what. It has no mouth to speak or eyes to see, yet I can sense it regarding me. I can hear its vast expanse contained in this physical figure. Rather than flee, I want to help.

I am standing in front of a door, one that wasn't there a moment ago. Doors are for one thing. Opening. Well, two, if you include closing, but that's the pedant in me. It, the being, would like me to do exactly that with this door. More than that, it needs me to. For some reason, it can't. Or shouldn't or mustn't or daren't.

Am I about to unleash a demon horde? Will I bring the Apocalypse down upon this world? Would we notice either way?

I acquiesce before noticing my hand reaching already. How odd?

I grip the handle, push it down, and pull the door open.