Why is it that the forbidden holds such power? When I was a kid and someone told me not to do something all I could think was, why? What mysterious wonder is being hidden from me?
In this house one of the closets bears this sign:
It is like a welcome mat, encouraging us to wonder what's inside. Every time I passed by it my fingers itched to casually slide it open. Maybe if my foot accidentally slipped and kicked it open. The kids were the same. 'What's in that closet, Mommy?' We all wondered. Ma Fille was the first to cave. She came to me and said, 'I opened that closet and all that was inside were old shoes.'
Of course then we all had to do it. Rowan and I had a peek for ourselves. She was right, old shoes mostly. Some prescription pill packets in Arabic, nothing at all very exciting.
I don't know what we were expecting really; ancient manuscripts, a treasure map, jewels?
We looked. We invaded privacy. Would you have looked?
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