The Door

On the table, however, that hand which no one could

see helped me serve them during the big meals; the

servants, of course, talked all the time, a bunch of

rumors piled on top of each other at the corners and

the maids stole the left over candles carrying the dark

house on their way; soon after we placed the coffin

on the two tripods while the mask on the wall stirred

as if the dead woman was still alive; yet how could

I explain what followed? Someone pointed to the hair

pins thrown on the floor like an indisputable proof of

her death that was spread all over the house while at

the same time the dead woman stood up from the coffin

and smiled triumphantly as if she already knew exactly

where the door was.