The threshold of this apartment was not the boundary between the entrance and the house. He was the boundary between what man is capable of understanding and what has been patiently waiting for its moment for centuries. It waited... Sometimes at night, you hear a quiet chuckle behind the door. Sometimes it feels like someone slowly running their fingernails along the inside of the wood. Because one day the door opens by itself. Not wide. Just enough so that from the darkness a pale face and white eyes, in which there are no pupils or reflection, become visible. It waited... Waited for someone to open the door themselves. Until curiosity turns out to be stronger than fear. Until the gaze meets two empty white eyes. At that moment, the door became no longer a defense, but an invitation. ...the threshold disappeared. Because some doors don't lead into an apartment.