The Door

There's this door.

Every time I walk to work, I take a shortcut through an alley, and I see this door.  At first, I didn't think much of it, you know?  Door in an alley; who cares?  But for some reason, it always kind of creeped me out.  Gave me the willies, or jibblies, or whatever you want to call them.

And I'm not sure why.

I think it's because of how the door looks.  From a distance, it almost looks like graffiti.  The dimensions are all wrong, like it was painted there by someone trying really hard to get it right, but getting it just wrong enough that it doesn't look real.  The uncanny valley of doors.  But when you get closer, it looks like any other door.  Well, any other door that's still living in the uncanny valley.

So it's either some extraordinary art, or really shoddy manufacturing to blame here.  I'm not sure which I'd prefer.  All I know is that every time I get near it, I start walking faster.  Like my legs don't want to have the rest of my body anywhere near that stupid thing for any longer than is strictly necessary.

It's a little unnerving.

I kinda want to check it out, though.  Is that stupid?  I wanna touch it.  See if it's paint or just some messed up back door to... um... whatever office or story or whatever is on that side of the alley.

Maybe I should just find a new route to work.