The Closed Door

Iyad stood before the dark wooden door, examining the faded brass details surrounding the lock. The air in the corridor was unnaturally cold, as if time had stopped in this corner of the hotel. He inserted the key cautiously, and heard the sound of the metal plate moving with a sharp screech that cut through the silence of the hotel. He opened the door slowly, and the dust of decades poured toward his face, mingled with the smell of old papers and intense dampness. He entered the room and pulled the door behind him, and the temperature suddenly changed, and his fingers felt a dry cold. The room contained a huge wooden desk, a tilted chair, and heavy curtains that blocked any outside light from entering. He began to examine the place step by step, recording his first observations in his small notebook, unaware that the door had closed behind him with an extremely firm automatic click.