Behind The Door
A Short Story
Maria knew she had to gather the courage to open the door at some point in her life.
She had spent the past few days cleaning, scrubbing even washing the wood and its metal handle at least twice a day – hoping that she would somehow gather the courage to finally turn the doorknob.
It wasn’t, after all, a normal door.
This was the door that led to the most beautiful time of her life. The door led her to her previous self – or more specifically those parts of herself that she had now buried somewhere deep inside.
She would often hear those visiting her house saying “Look at Maria, she is standing by his door again” or “Oh poor girl, May Allah give her patience”, but she ignored them all.
It wasn’t just Maria who did not enter the room, but she made sure no one else did either. Not her parents who visited her every two days, not her deceased husband’s mother who tried to reach her once a week and especially not the COVID-19 fumigation team that was able to sterilize the rest of her house except that room.
After all, how could she allow them to take away the last remains of her 15-year-old son from her?
They had already removed every proof of him – his smell, his cells from the rest of the house, but she just couldn’t…
