Knock Knock

You were ironing, watching the television, you were eating and sleeping and reading a book; one set in ancient Rome or the far future in a planet you can’t speak aloud because the author put too many consonants in the name. Then knock the sounds knock snap you out of knock whatever knock you were doing. It takes you a second to figure out what the sound was; there are no solid oak doors in ancient Rome, or in Ctrrskuitlyii. Your thoughts derail and all that’s in your mind now is the one thought: who is at the door?