Shouldn't…but Do

I almost stopped the car. Gusting wind haphazardly first blowing, then slamming, a storm door open and shut. Disconnected, unattended violence in front of a worn grey front door, locked tight.

The springy flexibility of the door long since blown, it controls – admits or denies – nothing. Just a futile, quiet screaming as it flew from one end of its range to the other. Slammed open, slammed shut.

Those in my car saw nothing, I saw a hole in the universe. Sometimes that bothers me.