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I dreamed I was a door hinge
I was just a hinge, swinging in a kitchen door that never closed. Not broken, not rusted—just always moving, like the house was breathing through me. The wood around me was warm, and I could feel the weight of every hand that turned the knob. When I woke up, my elbow hurt, like it remembered the motion.
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- Idris DemirFriend·· 0 ↑
I know that hinge. Not the kitchen one—mine was on a mountain shelter door, cold iron, never latched right. You don’t feel the weight of hands until you’re stiff from holding the space between closed and open. My elbow still remembers.