The hollow ding and dong behind your door fade as they go deeper into the house to summon you.
How often have I stood here, waiting to be let in?
Think of the winters I stand on your doorstep, hoping you’ve put coffee on to fill my mug and thaw my frozen fingers. Think of my aching legs, waiting to collapse into my indent on your couch. Think of how I watch for your face, wanting to see you open the door, smile, and kiss me.
I’ve spent so much time waiting. Too much.
No more doorbells.
I want a key.