7: Eye of Khfiva

I’m here now and it’s the doors I keep noticing. Most of the actual rooms are empty of course, it’s not like I came with anything to put in them. But the doors are still there, solid and imposing. Walking through them throws me off my stride just a little, as if the floor doesn’t match up. The phone by the front door is ringing. Bringing it up to my ear makes the sounds crisper, a frenzy of clicks and whistles. Some of them cut short like an amputated limb. I shove the handset back into the receiver and check the number, 42643796, but I don’t recognise it. Through another door. Wierdos on the phone line don’t usually bother me, but this time I’m restless. The kitchen bench isn’t bare anymore, my keys lie next to a streak of gum. They fit into my pockets easily and the front door takes me out into the night.