Where to Turn

The knock to the door came at 1:15 a.m. It was a light knock. It was shy too. So shy in fact the knock was not heard at all.

A second knock came but sounded as if it too didn’t want to knock at all.

Inside the same door, the hand waited anxiously. Ready for something. Thinking, it had nothing to be ready for.

A third knock came from two rapid knuckles, already sorry, they had knocked so loud.

The hand twisted the gold flaking knob draped it in a hopeful prayer. Paused feeling foolish knowing there was no hope at all.

As the door creaked opened the knuckles still in mid air, watching as foolishness fell to the floor. An even frailer smile turned down incapable of speech. The hand spoke first.

“You okay”?

Her lips and body beneath quivered as an arrow on a unsteady bow.

“I’ve been texting ya all night, but you didn’t answer”.

“I shouldn’t of come,” turning towards the door.

“I'm your friend right”.

Not liking what he saw, repeated.

"You okay”?

“I guess”.

She paused in doubt.

"At least I will be".

She answered herself.

“I gotta be”.

And answered herself again, “Right”?

“Of course, you gotta be"