door (noun) : a hinged, sliding, or revolving barrier
|She’s been staying in Veeny’s house for over a month. One thing that always intrigues her is the orange door at the end of the corridor. Why is it always locked? What is behind it?
As an extra precaution, a wooden bar has been nailed across the door. A shamefully large padlock stands glaring at inquisitive on-lookers. And then there is that belt tied around the door bolts.
Obviously someone has some secrets to hide. She has asked Veeny about it but the girl is as clueless as her.
But today is the perfect day. No one will be back before noon. That gives her full four whole hours all to herself.
Who knows when the next perfect moment will arise.
She tiptoes towards the door. She deals with the door-guards one at a time.
The door doesn’t creak open-it crumbles open. She wonders how many decades earlier it has been opened last. The door opens to a disappointingly small dark enclosure.
At the dusty bottom of the cave, she can barely make out the outline of something squarish. She picks it up. It is a photo frame kept face down.
Through the dying colors of the photo she makes out the faces of a mother holding her son in her arms. The mother is of course a younger teenage version of Veeny’s mother. But who is the boy? Veeny doesn’t have a brother. And why does the boy look so similar to the neighbour’s son?