She was an idiot.

Three wide open windows in front of her and all she could think about was the closed door.

‘Temporarily closed’, she would correct herself. ‘It could be opened in the future, perhaps. It just currently had a time lock.’

She was an idiot.

The first window blew a gentle breeze, teasing her and swirling around her shoulders. It beckoned her forward, yet she resisted. 

It was playful and loud, but behind the humorous front it was strong and steady, a consistent breath of air.

It tickled at her fingers and blew her hair in her face, the everlasting dare for her to climb out and fly along it in the bright blue cloudless sky.

Yet she resisted.

She was an idiot.

The second window was familiar, yet it led to mystery. Fog traced the frame, blurring everything outside except for a dirt road, a clear path. It rolled along the edges of the trail, controlled and slow, almost with an arrogance in knowing its secrets were hidden. An arrogance in knowing it could pull her into finding out what those secrets were. An arrogance in knowing it could pull her. And yet, she resisted.

Within the fog came the chirps of summer birds, splashes of water in lakes and in pools, laughter and tears of children playing games. Within the fog came the sound of childhood taunts and dares, came the sound of growing up. Within the fog came the sound of time. Time that called to her like a melody. 

Yet she resisted.

She was an idiot.

The third window led to a fire escape. Or at least she assumed so. Outside she saw the city, buildings of adventure and new stories. Buildings of new people and paths and ideas. Buildings with windows of their own, highlighting couples dancing in their apartments, cooking up disasters that could only end in laughter, gatherings in the living room with friends, eachother, or a good book. Each building told a story, of a new path, a new adventure, a new experience calling out for her to just climb out and jump, trusting there would be something to catch her. And yet, she resisted.

The window was unlike any she’d ever climbed through before. It was dangerous in that she never had experienced its danger. It was exciting in that she had never spun through its excitement. She could learn from that window through tales of adventure and intrigue. 

And yet… she resisted.

She was an idiot.

In a room filled with windows, she wanted to take the door. The door that was engraved with piano concerts in the dark. With hot chocolate in the rain. With best friends and epic games of Jenga. The door that was temporarily closed. The door that had a clock. The door that wouldn’t quite open but would always leave a crack, with warm light from grins drifting out and humming through her every bone. The door that would make jokes and share secret smiles and glances, but couldn’t promise anything more. 

The door she needed to accept was shut. At least for now.

But, In a room full of wide open windows, she kept choosing the closed door.

She was an idiot.