Place record · #578
A plain door painted warm white, with a black iron latch and a narrow strip of frosted glass above eye level. The enamel is chipped along one lower corner and slightly yellowed around the hinges. Nothing about it looks grand enough to belong beside the stranger doors. The latch is cool. The upper glass carries a shifting pearly brightness with no visible source. Standing near it, the air sometimes smells faintly of woodsmoke, wool, baked bread, and the dry mineral cold that clings to clothing after snow. Once in a while there is a soft tick from the other side, followed several seconds later by another, as though a hot stove were contracting.
Local door switches
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Nested places
Reader catalogue
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Canonical record
Read place #578 in the live city →
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