Every time feels the same. I am staying in front of the brown door, with my eyes half closed and a constant tension in the back of my head. I relentlessly press the cold doorknob and I am immediately stroke by a pungent smell of garbage and dirt. The red carpet in front of me seems hauntingly familiar and it makes 
me feel like I have been in this position hundreds of times in the past. So I close my eyes to avoid any inconvenient and regretful sight and I start walking while counting my steps. One, two, three. I start hearing almost indecipherable noises coming from upstairs. Four, five, six, seven. I turn left and I keep counting. Eight, nine, ten. I am standing in front of 13 stairs separating me from the upper floor. I start climbing the steps and the sounds start to take a clearer shape. They are sounds of happiness, of joy, of obsession, of desire. I couldn’t possibly think she is going to keep all her love for me. I am neither a fool nor a hopeless romantic, but the wait is always the one killing me. Having to stay by the closed door and wait for my turn is painful but it’s the only option.
I am at the top of the stairs and I look away as the door opens, and another wanderer soul leaves the room. After a polite head nod, I enter the room and close the door. I don’t even look at her, I can’t, not yet. I take off all of my clothes and it begins. A slow kiss on my face, followed by a heated bite on my left shoulder. She looks me in the eyes and kisses my face and I respond with a genuine smile. A million thoughts rush through my absent mind and my heart starts beating at a pace I’ve never experienced before. I look her in the eyes, and she responds with a charming glance and if you would’ve asked me then, I would have told you that I was the only person she ever cared about. The only man she ever loved and will ever love. She is an angel on Earth if there ever was one.
But then suddenly she stops. I am too dazed to understand why. I try to catch her eyesight but she avoids me. She lights a cigarette and lays on the bed emotionless and cold. She knows it’s over. And I know it’s over. I try to postpone getting dressed but a knock on the door brings me back to reality and I understand I need to go. She rushes me and opens the door. I leave the room and my eyesight meets the glance of another person waiting to see her. I couldn’t possibly think she is going to keep all her love for me. I am neither a fool nor a hopeless romantic, but the last look is always the one killing me. The door closes, with the last remains of steam leaving the room, carrying heat and lust. I couldn’t genuinely say I ever experienced what people call ‘true love’, but our time together is the closest I ever got to it. What could I possibly do now? I close my eyes and then I open them. I am staying in front of the closed brown door…
P.S. Razvan later told me that he story is actually about his shower. I though that this detail changed the story completly. What do you think about it knowing this aspect?
Here we have it guys! Another amazing story by one of my friends Razvan Ditu. He is currently a student at the University of Kent in Canterbury, studying Film. I know Razvan since my first year at University. This is the first time I saw anything written by him and I actually like it. It seems like a really profound story with a deeper meaning. I hope you guys enjoyed this story as much as I did! I’ll #seeyousoon guys! If you would like, do send me your stories and some of them might get published right here, on the blog.