The door swung open with a slow creak, despite the lack of a rational explanation for the movement. There was only the irrational. A cold trickle of sweat ran down my back as I caught a little flash of something out of the corner of my eye. I shivered despite the August heat.
"Alex?" I called out to the empty room, the powder blue paint with the chocolate trim the only reminder that this was once his bedroom; the place we'd done "it" when his parents were out of town, the place he'd pledged his love, the place he'd come to die, still promising we'd be together forever.
But they were bulldozing the house next week and I was eager for one last look at the four walls that held my dearest memories. Alex, my love Alex, appeared to me then, his green eyes were as I remembered, twinkling just the same. He bowed to me, holding the door open for me, motioning me through. I laughed at his formality, the sound echoing eerily through the shell of the house as I stepped over the threshold and through the rotted floorboards, feeling my bones shatter as the door swung shut.
How to know if you have a good editor
17 hours ago