She.

She was waiting for her life to begin. And she spend her days that way, looking through the big window in her room to that street full of people with important things to do, walking always with a rush and never with time to do anything else but what they all were suppose to do. One day she was able to get a pick at a beautiful couple that shared a tenderly kiss right before he had to leave to never come back, not that they knew that of course, and a day after that she got a glimpse of another simple couple fighting for something that seemed really unimportant a minute after, when she saved him from getting hit by a car, with simple things like that was the way she had to learn a little about the human condition and the necessity that we portrait of putting our attention and energy to the things in the world that made no sense and had little importance.

She always dreamed about the day when she would be finally free and would be able to take a step outside and experience the world in her own flesh. She always imagined it the same way: dress with her beautiful blue dress, so like Alice’s, getting down the stairs, not seeing anyone and finding the door in the house unlock, opening the door and having that first step of the begging of her life. The only problem was that it wasn’t possible, the door was always close and the key was very well hiding out of her reach, buried in the fake cookie jar that she once saw and was not able to forget since that terrifying day in her life. She had a vague memory, she didn’t know if it was true or false, of a time when her life was happening and she was looking at the sun directly and not through the glass of her window, but then, in a flash, she was inside the house and her life stop, she wasn’t being anymore, she felt frozen in time.

…..

At first she didn’t feel it in the air or in the mood of the day, but after the morning shower she started to notice something odd about the way the air was going around the house, it seemed like it was going on the wrong direction. She took her purse and proceed to leave the room, when she was in the arch of the door she felt something resemble to nostalgia and turned to see that bubble of peace once more, she observed for the first time how very white it was, the walls, the ceiling, the curtains, the closet, the bed and all the pillows, the side-table, the rug, the floor and the sofa, all white, the only thing with color was the picture of that strange purple butterfly but even the frame was white; she half smile and turned, took a step and closed that big white door behind her trying to deal with something as strange as having feelings of nostalgia for a room that was so white.

She started to walk the aisle passing all those familiar portraits of people that were supposed to be related to her but for whom she felt absolutely nothing, she saw them anyway, as she always did, trying to find a connection towards one or maybe two of the beautiful faces that the pictures represented, trying to feel a sense of belonging, but sadly as always happened she couldn’t feel a thing, not even a small feeling or the beginning of a small feeling; she didn’t longer too much on the subject, she was used to it, you can even say that even before looking she already knew the result of the senseless search.

She finally reached the stairs that lead to the main floor and there was when it really hit her, the change in the air was really too much to not notice, she lean on a little to see if she could discover what was different, she lean a little more and a little more until she was almost touching the steps with her nose, suddenly she felt how her feet slide from the steps and she was rushing down stairs with her face in the front, she could already feel the pain when she reach the bottom step, but as suddenly as she started falling she stopped and then she return to herself and to reality, she took a ladylike position (straighten her back), saw her perfectly place feet ,that  was close, and started coming down the stairs while she was thinking on how powerful the imagination (and the mind for that matter) really is and how she must think some more about that once she had the opportunity and the time. In the moment she finished that line of thought she reached the final step and was standing right in front of that big red door that was the way to the re-starting of her life.

In a strange, quick and very unlike her move, she took two steps towards the door, she slowly raise her hand and touch the door knob; she could feel it was really cold and heavy, and with a horrible bronze color and that stupid key-hole that contained all the freedom and wonder that had been taken from her long ago, knowing exactly what was going to happen she tried to turn the door knob and unexpectedly it moved, she couldn’t believe it and remembering the stairs she thought, in a moment I’ll return to myself and this red door will be close, but the moment passed and she didn’t return to herself, that could only mean that she was in herself and that it was really happening.

She had no idea of how she should feel about it, she had picture it, dreamed it, wrote it, drank it, touched it, but she never prepared the reaction for something that wasn’t possible; but there she was with an open door, the world and the beginning of her life on the other side.

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