A Door Left Open
1When the apartment lights went out, Saira carried her battery lantern into the fourth-floor hallway. Doors opened along the corridor. Without the usual television sounds, the building seemed to be holding its breath. Saira thought the silence needed filling. She proposed bringing chairs to the wide landing by the window, leaving the stairs clear. Across the hall, Dorian held a flashlight against his notebook.
2“We could get everyone together,” Saira said. “Nobody would have to sit alone.” Dorian shook his head. “I was enjoying sitting alone.” Saira smiled, assuming he was joking, and reached for the folding chair beside his door. He put his hand on its back. To him, the chair was not an invitation; it was where he had finally found a quiet place to draw.
3Saira pulled her hand away. She had lived here for several months, yet she still recognized more delivery drivers than neighbors. During the last outage, she had listened to footsteps outside without knowing whom she could ask for news. Tonight, an open landing seemed better than a row of closed doors. “You could bring your notebook,” she offered.
4Dorian heard that as another way of saying he should come. At school, quiet usually meant someone would ask what was wrong. Nothing was wrong now. He liked hearing his pencil move across the page without a screen humming nearby. “Could you ask before deciding where my chair belongs?” he said. Saira looked down at the chair, then back at him.
5“I thought you might not want to be left out,” she said. Dorian loosened his grip. He had mistaken her invitation for a complaint about his choice. “I don’t mind being asked,” he answered. “I mind when no sounds like the wrong answer.” Saira nodded slowly. She had been treating an empty chair as a problem to solve.
6Saira moved her lantern toward the landing. “I’ll be over there if you feel like coming.” She left Dorian’s chair beside his door. He watched her greet an older neighbor, then returned to his drawing. After a few minutes, he added the lantern’s circle of light to the page. From his doorway, he could hear the neighbors comparing stories without joining in.
7When Saira returned for a sweater, Dorian held up his sketch. She recognized the landing, including the open doorway at the edge. “You can show them,” he said, handing it over. “Just bring it back.” Saira carried the drawing toward the voices. Dorian stayed in his chair, with his door open.