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| door:� I will try and explain the peculiarity of this moment.� she had said to friends suddenly she wasn't feeling well, to me she didn't want to be at the party anymore.� maybe from the pot we'd smoked.� we left, walking quickly on after rain streets, her a step or two ahead.� we had kissed, that unreadable girl and I.� looked at me before going in her apartment, the door closing behind hurrying her.� then I was in the hallway staring at two incompatable interpretations of the last ten minutes, reaching back, balanced between paranoia and presumption.� her sickness was an excuse, but what for--either she had wanted to leave the party, or wanted to leave with me.� either walking fast because she wanted to be alone, or because she wanted us to be alone.� walking, she had either felt impatient annoyance or impatient desire.� Two realities, balanced in an existential entertwining, crackling in the minutia of that moment.� panic ransacking short term memory for clues, but no help, there was evidence for both.� she was either wondering why I didn't come in, or wishing I wouldn't.� The peculiarity was in that I felt both of these were true, or would be, as soon as I opened or didn't open the door, that I could with a decision alter, indelibly, an indeterminate past.� Schroedinger's doorway.� I opened the door.� I was wondering what you were doing out there, she said. | ||