An open door

Noah pulled out his phone and began compulsively scrolling through Reddit. Then the door opened again, sooner than it had the last time. There was a flash of color, and a body slipped out, laughing breathlessly, and swearing under his breath. The door was left hanging open behind him.

Noah froze.

That was it.

He was next.

His throat tightened. The hallway suddenly felt too narrow. He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting the guy behind him to grab him, to say, ‘Hey man, what the hell are you doing?’ But the guy behind him was busy scrolling on his phone, mumbling lyrics to himself.

No one was going to push him forward, and no one was going to stop him from just leaving. The sudden, newly discovered sense of control made him dizzy, that or his body was still processing all the **** he had downed in the last thirty or forty minutes.

He’d spent his whole life playing it safe. Swallowing his discomfort to keep the peace. Being understanding, patient, and supportive. He had just always waited his turn, even before he had stepped into this line.

And now here he was. About to do something reckless, something that he would probably regret. He wasn’t even sure if he was angry anymore. He wasn’t even sad. He just felt lost and overwhelmed.

Noah grabbed the edge of the door, without fully realizing it was in his hand.

He hesitated—just long enough to hear the faint sound of laughter on the other side. A woman’s voice. Breathless and roiling with spit.

Jillian. His chest squeezed tight.

He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the cool, hard edge of the door. There was still time. He could walk away. Call an Uber. Just go somewhere and sober up, and try to forget this night ever happened.

But his hand slid down to the knob.

This wasn’t about ****. Or pride. Or even spite anymore.

He just wanted closure.