Author: Peter Cherches

I left my apartment only to enter my apartment. That is, instead of leading to the hallway of my building, the door led back to my apartment. My apartment had become a recursive loop. I was a prisoner, couldn’t get out, because going out only meant going back in.

I knocked on the wall I share with my neighbor’s apartment. “What is it?” the neighbor yelled.

“Could you come over to my apartment?” I yelled back.

A minute later there was a knock on my door. I opened it. My neighbor was standing inside his apartment.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Wait, is this your apartment?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “You knocked on my door.”

I looked behind me. It was my apartment, as expected. I was standing in my apartment looking into his apartment.

“What do you see?” I asked.

“What do you mean what do I see?”

“What are you looking at?”

“You.”

“What’s behind me?”

“Wait a minute,” he said. “How did you get in my apartment?”

He was right. I was in his apartment, looking into my apartment. He was in my apartment, looking at me standing in his apartment.

“What have you done?” he asked.

“What have I done?” I asked. It was a standoff. Then I had an idea. “Let’s switch places,” I said. I walked into my apartment and he walked back to his, jostling me, on purpose, I was sure, as he went by.

“What now?” He asked.

“Let’s close our doors,” I said.

So we closed our doors. We were both back in our apartments.

I opened my door again. Everything was back to normal. My door led to the hallway. I knocked on the neighbor’s door, just to confirm that everything was OK.

There was no answer.