Love : An Open Door

Question 2:

They say love is an open door. Doors serve many purposes. You open them to let people in. You close them to keep people out. We go to certain lengths to keep our doors locked: padlocks, codes, barriers, traps...

March 1, 2004. The streets struggled to hold its own against the many vehicles and pedestrians making their way hurriedly to who knows where. With my mother's glass figurine in hand and my purse slung across my chest I slithered through the never ending wave of humans. Foolishly I began to smirk at my agility like an arrogant apprentice. That was the moment I met 'him'. Colliding cars never had been totalled like we were. I regret looking into those handsomely deceiving and addictive eyes; the fragile figurine fell and like my life it shattered.

We sat in a private booth away from prying eyes and potential saviours. He told me this was the coffee shop he had been going to since he was 8. He told me it was his favourite place to be since his father always took him there every morning at 7, before he died. He told me he was murdered by his mother who misappropriated funds at her former job to get drugs.

In an attempt to lighten the mood I inquired about his favourite things to order there. Café Mocha was his reply so I bought it, just like I bought all his lies.

We strolled down the sidewalk under the moonless blanket of darkness hands swinging as if we were that cliché high school couple everyone idolises. He was the bad boy, playboy everyone warns you about and I was the naïve nerd that lived under a rock.

I remembered I had to get a replacement gift for my mother so he offered to take me to the closest antique store. The gentleman at the counter was polite and obviously knew his line of work. He offered advice in which antiques to purchase and I turned around to get 'his' opinion.

I thought it odd how 'he' scrutinised, took in every detail and how his eyes were indecisive about whether to watch the door or the store clerk. I should have seen it coming but I didn't- I allowed myself to be hypnotised and convinced to walk into a bright room with my eyes closed.

A blaring alarm sounded. My heart sped up as my eardrums rang with the angry protests of the store clerk. I was yanked out the door and into the streets to be met by flashing red and blue lights.

Frozen in shock I barely registered the feeling of cool metal tightening around my wrist and the faint gossips of the cold wind.

The serpent of Eden was nowhere in sight unlike one of the three stolen heirlooms he slipped into my bag. There was always only room for me in my heart but now, I always lock the door behind me.