She didn´t want to meddle. Never liked such things. A closed door is a closed door. Still there are cracks, light flows in, there are always cracks and one is all it takes. She smirked thinking, that she had become quite a meddler and laughed to herself. A tear flowed down her cheek. A single tear tears the web of lies. So I´m a meddler, maybe I could meddle ... this once and thinking so, she left.
She had somehow always known a trick and somehow it always worked. He fell to his knees. The trick was a lot faster than speaking, explaining. Now he just knew and she could just walk off. No words, who needs them.. and when you need them, they always never come. A bit off, she thought: I smashed the door down, a bit cruel I think and laughed again
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