The Gray clears, like a curtain being drawn

I see two doors, both identical

No light comes from under the crack

No keyhole to look through

Wooden door, brass knob

Nothing special about the doors

Nothing

But they are there

That is new

I try to open the first one.

Locked

Jammed

Trapped, I still am

The second door opens slightly, but does not open any further. Something blocks my escape.

A chair? A chain? A person?

I must chose a door, the question is which?

The first door, locked without any clue to what is inside. Or the second door, which is open wide

enough to see that the room is red. Crimson.

Red like a sunset, red like Santa's hat. The red hurts my eyes.

I decide to stay in the Gray. The Gray is my friend

The Gray

listens

notices me

talks to me

The Gray doesn't hate me

I will stay with my friend