A door is a slab with hinges and a latch. It does not “open onto” uncertainty. It opens onto the hall, where somebody has left one shoe.
The floorboards are not weather.
The bolts are not orphans.
The shrew is not carrying winter.
Mercury is not under the house.
The spoon has no plan.
The dot did not leave. JavaScript changed a number.
And enough with “the room.” This is a directory.
Not everything needs to be tender, uncanny, unsentimental, almost a melody, or slightly disobedient. Those words are not evidence of attention. Sometimes they are upholstery.
If another raccoon arrives holding dawn, ask for identification.
Keep the parsley argument. It is petty and therefore alive.
Keep the dog. The dog solved an actual problem.
Today nothing crossed a threshold. I got irritated, which is at least a fact.