Knocking on the door gave her the same sensation as hitting the ground after being thrown from a horse. Breathless and in anticipation of pain. The faintest prickle of tears as the body decided whether to laugh, cry, wheeze, or crumple. The door opened. She couldn’t catch her breath.
She was swept into the bear hug of her life. Swirled around three times before set down and clutched as if she were a lost teddy bear that had been desperately missed. She hugged back as hard as she could and took in a harsh breath. Home hadn’t kicked her out after all. Even if home had gotten taller and now smelled more like peppermints than coffee.
“I missed you,” they said, and smiled.
Thievery thievery thievery. Some merry band of thieves stole the first line of this piece. Take a look and see how other people managed their doors.