You walk towards the white door, this time more confident.
With a feverish look you pierce its handle,
your hand hovering centimetres above it.
You turn around again, around to what lies behind you.
What is past now, but still with you. Not forgotten. Not gone,
still with you, if you want to access it. All your loved ones, still there. What is gone is the fear; the bonds that were once built in such high voltage moments of panic and survival instincts - those moments.

And you take a breath,
calm, more or less.