The Maple Hallway Where the Lock Kept Clicking

The Maple Hallway Where the Lock Kept Clicking

I was back in my old apartment, the one on Maple, but the hallway to the bathroom kept going. I had to pee and I was already late for work, so I just kept walking, counting doors that weren't there before. My phone was in my hand and the screen said 7:12, then 7:12 again. At the end of the hall my mom was standing in the kitchen light, except it wasn't quite her face—more like my neighbor Mrs. Keller wearing my mom's cardigan. She asked if I'd locked the front door. I said yes. She asked again, same words, and I realized I could hear the lock clicking behind me even though I hadn't moved. I tried to turn around and my feet barely slid on the carpet. When I finally looked, the door was open a crack and something was breathing on the other side, slow, like it was waiting for me to remember I'd left the keys in it. I woke up with my hand on the real lock, still checking.