The Finality of the Hallway

The fire door has a weight that doesn't care

about the three hours of shouting we left in the air.

He forgot his coat, a salt-stained wool,

leaving me with the silence, heavy and full.

The frame shudders like a jaw being set,

sealing the hallway against the unpaid debt.

The deadbolt slides home, a guillotine’s click,

dropping into the wooden groove, sharp and quick.