Writing exercise: Stairway

There’s a stairway at the back of the house that no one uses. I don’t know why. The others either don’t know or won’t tell me, I’m not sure which. Everyone walks by it as if it’s not there. The lights work just like anywhere else, and I’ve never heard any noise or felt anything strange there.

It’s white, with a banister of light-colored wood. There is a window a third of the way  up. The light streams through the window, no matter where the sun is in the sky. It never seems dirty or dusty, even I’ve never seen anyone clean it. It’s always full of light, and on very sunny days, almost dazzling to look at.

That’s how it was the first day I came here, and something about it made me stop and just look at it. I’m not sure how long it was when Miss Matthews asked me if I was lost. Perhaps maybe I was, because I can’t get that staircase out of my mind.

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