“Threshold”

It’s #TravelTuesday and I just came across a photo I took in Cusco, Peru, of the door at La Casa de Los Cuatro Bustos, a historical home now occupied by Palacio del Inka, a Luxury Collection Hotel. Following is “Threshold,” a very short story I wrote while gazing at the photo, thinking about all the travelers who have laid their eyes upon that door.

“Wait,” she called, looking downward. Her Converse sneakers were newly scuffed, a gray and greenish travelogue of the last few days, of cobblestone corners and steep salt mines, of wordless nature trails and rented bicycles.

Sebastian had one hand on a door that was the same color as the blazing sky. He tilted his head back, not looking at Jessica. She couldn’t keep up with him; that was the problem. He felt time and cities and meadows and borders rolling under him nonstop like a treadmill, and he loped forward easily. He had always been that way. Sandra wanted to absorb the details, and that slowed them down. When they had arrived in Cusco yesterday, she spent an hour in a single alleyway, looking at the sides of the building, trying to charm the toothless women who proffered brightly adorned alpacas for petting, browsing the street vendors’ endless selections of yarn and paper necklaces. Sebastian had circled five blocks at what he felt was a slow pace, and finally dragged Sandra off to see the cathedral – which had already closed. Sebastian sighed.

“I just want to be with you,” she said. “Let’s go.”

One more try, thought Sebastian. Maybe I can slow down.