The DoorAs he climbed the stairs he knew things were different now. Behind that door was his past, not his future.
Behind that door a thousand memories were locked in. To open the door would be to lose them. Tarnish them
It was her room now. Two people sharing the same memories but not the same bed. Behind that door is the bed that gave life to a whole new generation.
Now it was just a painful memory of a previous life. A life that was no more.
His hand releases it's grip from the unopened door. As he walks slowly back down the stairs, he smiles. Maybe not for the future but perhaps for the past.