It took a little bravery for the boy to open the door to the room at the very end of the corridor. It has been quite a while ever since the last time he last checked the room and the lamp in it seemed to have been lit since.

His family should have slept by that time. It was just that he could not that he still is conscious late that night. There would not be anyone being in that room at that time and would he or she be still in for the long time mentioned. Even if there is, that should not be normal. That should be something he needs to check.

Maybe it was not bravery that led him to open the door, which on its sides reveal an orange-yellowish radiance of neon light. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was just that he did not have any choice that he finally led himself to it the second time he checked on the room.

His hand is now already at the cold steel handle of the door. It was still a little after winter and early into spring that the temperature is still a little bit extreme. His hand could not work on it. There was a little fear still in him. But it is the kind of fear that even thought it pleaded not to, a certain part of it still wanted to. The kind of fear curiosity has.

A short, sudden determination leads him to hear a click. The door is surely not locked from the inside, that he can be sure as the door is already opening on him.

Inhale. Exhale. Take a long, deep breath. Calm yourself, he thought to himself.

It may be that behind the door there was already someone waiting for him. Someone short with a funny accent on his voice with feet similar to horse, or goat, or maybe it was a talking rabbit. Whatever he is, maybe he was chosen to help the man in a war in a world where reality does not work as it is in the boy’s own world. Maybe he was a hero mentioned in a prophecy somewhere there and he was now to be brought, to be reborn under some kind of giant tree, or in some kind of velvet-colored crystal.

What if it were like that. What should the boy do?

He could reason not to go because his parents would be worried. But what if he replied that time does not work the same way in both worlds; what if he said an eternity in that other world would only equal to an hour here?

What if he said Einstein’s theory where the man explained about the aging of someone traveling at a speed comparable to light, a state that specific someone could be said to be traveling in time, is to be completely different from his colleagues in normal state does not work in this situation?

Well, the boy would not understand any about that, let alone given the equation this genius man formed in the thought that some time later such possibility might occur. The boy might agree to go with the strange man even without that last explanation he gave.

There is no reason for him to worry. The strange man can only be from a different dimension, a strange world formerly unrelated to the boy’s. He heard his parents once said that only reality can be scary, only reality can potentially be feared to an extent it could not be called curiosity.

It should be safe like this. Movies he had seen taught the boy that everything like such can only lead to an exhilarating adventure.

He is ready to be that sort of person. He is ready to be brave. He opened the door while holding his breath.

…

Yet there was no one inside. The room was still the same room he used every day. He peed in there and switched the lamp off. In a way, he felt relieved that the toilet is still the same room as any other day.

The boy went into the kitchen and from the refrigerator he takes out a milk container and pours the creamy white liquid into a mug before heating it in a microwave.

The boy did not know that he left a little milk stain between his lips and his nose as he walks toward his bedroom. It was not before he sees his reflection on a mirror in his room that he wiped it off clean.

Not knowing what to do but wait for the Sandman to come by its own, he opened a curtain in his room along with the window it covered and looked outside to the clearing sky.

It already is a little to morning and the sky has on it a light bluish tone cascading to a somewhat darker color.

He can already see Mars up there in the sky. Not too clear, but he can be sure that it is not the sun or the moon and yet not as small as stars so it should be Mars. His teacher had once explained about how it sometimes can be seen at dusk with its orange-red color.

The boy decided he did not like Mars at all then, but he forgot all about it when light breezes at times blow into his room the afternoon that very same day. It is quite a downpour out there.

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