Handle

People are like doors.

Some are closed, locked shut, hiding the boxes and piles of rubbish that stand on an unvacuumed carpet.

Some are ajar letting the sound of laughter and smell of apple pie or bacon sarnies sneak around the gap.

A few have their doors wide open so we can see everything that's going on; the laundry and the books and the crying and the singing and all.

But whatever our door is like, we all need a handle to get in.