We were looking for mold, but found the door. I didn’t want to open it. You didn’t want to open it, so it opened itself for us. When I looked in I saw blue-green soft, organ-like shapes growing from the walls, a footpath that curved into darkness. The room breathed, gill-like and I swore a thousand bluish eyes shifted and focused. When you looked in, you wouldn’t tell me what you saw. I tried to insist you saw the blue-green organs, the path, monsters, death—what mattered. You held my foot as I said, I’m going in. I’ve been there. I can come back. You said, We don’t have to decide this now. I got on my hands and knees to wiggle through the wooden beams that held up the remaining drywall. I felt humidity move like a breath of air. Stay with me, you said, I’m not letting go. I sat back in a squat and looked at your hands, thinking, Well, okay. That’s good. The door shut all by itself. We turned to watch it lock.