11.5

I've opened up this door a hundred times today, and each time it's always the same drab closet behind it. I'm getting mad. I swear; this morning I stumbled to the bathroom, and, as a consequence of being in this new (old) house, I opened the closet door and caught the briefest glimpse of a passageway just behind the panelling. It was illuminated by a dim lanternlight shed by nothing and from nowhere. I shrieked and slammed the door, recoiling. Just as fast as I could, I pulled the door open again and saw only my boxes of keepsakes and the folded linens, just as I had left them.
Maybe next time. I'll try in five minutes, maybe.