I turned around toward the door and walked slowly to it. Now that I was more familiar with the contents of this room, I was curious to see what was beyond the door, outside of the bubble. I stepped once and breathed calmly, fixing my gaze on the corner I was reaching. I could see on my left the heavy knitted throw I had just left a bit ago, and wondered if the comfort of the bed was more appealing than whatever was outside the door.

My feet brushed the wooden floor softly as I came right in front of the doorway. I gently rested my ear on the heavy door, listening for a potential ambush. After the silence reassured me, I grabbed the knob of the ajar door and pulled it open as softly as I could.

To my surprise, it didn’t squeak as it did earlier that day, and gave right in when I pulled it closer to me. It opened to a small corridor; it was plunged in darkness but I could still discern a few feet in front of me. Right in front, on the opposite side of the corridor was a big set of double doors, closed. I slowly poked my head out further, to the left there was another door shut, and to the right was a set of stairs.

It was quiet out. As a shiver crawled up my spine, I wondered what kind of force that old woman must have had to bruise my flesh so deeply. Without thinking any further, I launched my leg outside of the room and ventured out.

Fearing that one of the closed doors was the woman’s bedroom, I decided to go downstairs instead. Slowly, I tried each step before putting my entire weight on it. I held the banister firmly, like my life depended on it as I made my way down without making any more noise than my cold breath in the calm of the night. When I reached the final step, I braced my whole self and landed on the cold tiles of the first floor.

No one was around. Almost instantly, a soft light reached my eyes, coming from straight ahead.

The gentle blue hue was coming from a door seemingly at the opposite side of the house, separated from the stairs by a long, narrow hallway. The tiles under my feet felt a lot more certain than the old wooden flooring, and were quicker to navigate. Without paying much attention to the few rooms that I passed along the way, I started to walk towards the door leading outside, where the light from the moon was pouring in. The house was quiet and frozen, as suspended as my breath.

I couldn’t stop looking at the opening. It didn’t look like there were any shadows obstructing the light from behind the door. Before too long I was close enough that I could rest the palm of my right hand on the glass, the kind light dove into my eyes and appeased me.

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Behind the glass, huge planters were resting on the floor and on shelves, keeping within them flowers and plants I had never seen before -at least not like this. Like a sky filled with glitter the roof was raining light on the plants and herbs, and somehow on myself. It was so peaceful that for a moment I feared I would forget how to breathe.

I looked at it more intensely to find that the light of the moon was reflected on small pieces of glass, like mirrors. They were shining on the multiple pots laying in this back room. Plants taller than me with otherworldly shapes stared back desaturated under the cold light.

“It’s nice to see you out of bed, Florian” The familiar voice erupted in my back and grew closer. Instinctively I lowered myself into a ball, my back against the door, as the figure came into the light.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” I whispered. I covered my ears with my hands, fearing a retaliation usually too brutal.

“It’s alright, now” The woman said, as her long figure was engulfed by the light of the green house.

“Please” I begged again in a sigh, without hearing the words leaving her mouth. Too often, when Mother caught us wandering in the hallways, her quick hand pulled on our collars, ears and hairs back to the dormitories. It was always safer to look down and plead.

“You’re fine now, you’re alright” The woman crouched right there, without as much as laying a hand on me. Just like me, she wasn’t wearing any shoes or socks, her bare feet resting on the hexagonal tiles of the main floor.

I looked up to her face, pointed at me, trying to gauge her expression. She was looking up at the window I was marveling at a moment ago, millions of specs of light bouncing off her pupils.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” She didn’t look down when she addressed me, rather she stood up in an elegant motion. For a few seconds she stood there, waiting for me to do the same when I felt comfortable.

“What is... it?” I asked back, slowly removing my palms from the sides of my head.

“This is where I grow my plants, and my flowers. Have you ever seen anything like this?”

“Not… really.” I started while I hesitantly stood from the chilly floor. “It’s so bright and pretty.”

I looked at her for a moment. Her hands were holding a heavy sweater around her chest. Her chin, steady, was pointed at the door, a proud faint smile pending from her lips. She was breathing softly, her chest rising every now and then.

Slowly, I turned back to the door leading to the greenhouse to look at the light again. She was right, I had never seen an installation like this, and I had no idea what purpose it served. It was otherworldly, but incredible and irresistible. Slowly, some specs of light traveled and shined in different places as a few suspended shards of mirror moved with a breeze.

“How about I make some tea before we go back to bed?” She finally looked at me, right in the eyes. Embracing me with a stern love, she pierced through me.