The Creative Act

I ring the door bell and after the mechanical buzz I wait for an answer,

“Hello?” exits the speaker rather muffled, “It’s me” I reply,

The door clicks and I open it hastily before it re locks,

I step into the dimly lit stairwell, I can hear T.V.s glowing and rambling from behind wooden doors,

I make my way up the stairs admiring the scuff marks and graffiti, a work of art in collaboration with the holes in the

walls caused by bulky and cumbersome furniture,

I rise then plateau turn then rise again as I make my way from floor to floor,

Politely acknowledging the few people who decided to venture from their apartments at that time,

“Hey” I say “Hey” they say back, a nod or a smile, and then we go our ways,

I squint my eyes at the sun shining in from numerous small windows lining the walls,

And I continue to walk step after step repetively over and over again,

Finally I reach my plateau, my designated number and I knock on the door,

“Hey!” I say loudly through it. The locks rattle and the hinges squeak as you pull the door open,

And welcome me to paradise(relief).