The Door to My Other Home

I found a door in my basement that wasn't there yesterday. It was wooden, ancient looking,

with rust covering the hinges. I opened it and inside was my kitchen. Exact same layout,

same furniture, but everything was spotless. I walked back to my real kitchen.

Dishes piled in the sink, trash overflowing. Went back through the door.

Spotless again. Then I noticed the family photo on the wall. Same frame,

same people, but in this version I was smiling. I haven't smiled in years.

I heard footsteps upstairs. In the clean house. Someone who looks like me lives here.

And they're coming down.