Ophelia knelt down and placed her hand flat on the surface of the door. She’d made the most of all her strolls in the park in preparation for this moment, whispering friendly words to the lock, breathing some life into it, bringing it out of its shell, day after day. Everything now depended on her performance. For the door to consider her as its owner, she had to behave as such. “Open up,” she whispered in a firm tone. A click. Ophelia seized the handle.
