The door was removed from its hinges once a week, for over a month. It was a thick metal door, painted white, and had suffered multiple bruises and dents near the top. Unnerving. Taunting.
The scene shifted, and I was in a rectangular room, large and open, also painted white. There were peers there, classmates, mostly female, all pale and earnest. They were staring at me warmly. Everything was blinding and light.
“It’s time you have joined the coven,” one stated simply. Another patted the open space next to her on a white leather sofa.
“I’m not sure about this,” I replied nervously, “Do I want to be involved with people who keep breaking down my apartment door?”
They said nothing. They stared.
“I don’t like your recruitment tactics,” I glared at them.
“Don’t be silly,” she implored delicately, “You’re one of us now. We take classes together too. There’s no denying that you belong with us either.”
One of my friends wore a khaki-toned trenchcoat. He sat back, long hair in his usual uncombed ponytail, fragrant plumes of smoke drifting out of his pipe.
“What are you doing here, A?!” I gasped.
“Nah, don’t get all bothered. I just talk with these people. You know I’m off-beat, not undead.”
I nodded in agreement at the only comic relief my brain offered to me, and stirred myself out of an already restless slumber.
“Growing up sucks,” I muttered at my impatient alarm clock. I didn’t bother to hit snooze. It was nearly time to leave for work.
