the room

in perpetual winter

her door always remained closed.

there were

of course


but for the most part

it was just her and her thoughts in this tiny little


that was until-

well, it’s hard to exactly pinpoint


all she really knows is that


more and more sun beams kept shining through

the cracks of her tiny,

tiny room

gradually reaching all of her surfaces.

bit by bit she started to open

first her curtains

then her windows

and then


no, finally

her door.

it was rusty and the paint was starting to chip

but she opened it nonetheless and quickly came to love

its flaws

now highlighted by the sun.

ever since then

she has felt warm,

safe and embraced

for she realised that her fear

of opening up

her door had passed.

for the sun

she would forever keep searching for more curtains, windows and

doors to open

as it made her not want to hide alone

in her room

any longer.

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