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The Broken Latch
(Pdf can be found below.)
n old man named Ruan
lived in a crooked little cottage
at the edge of the forest.
He was blind,
so he knew the world
by other means than sight —
by
the rough grain of the table
he had sanded smooth,
by the cinnamon
warmth of drying herbs,
by the slow weather of sounds.
His house had a flaw:
the front door latch was broken.
He meant to fix it, truly.
But something else always came first —
the
kindling to split,
the kettle to mind,
the paths to relearn
after
every storm.
So the door stayed slightly ajar.
Not open, not closed.
Just… slightly
able to move.
Neighbors worried for him.
“Aren’t you afraid?” they asked.
“Of
thieves? Of wild animals?
Of wandering strangers?”
“I am less afraid of what might enter,”
Ruan would answer,
“than of
shutting out what should!”
Some evenings he would sit by the doorway
and listen to the light thinning
in the trees —
the last bees stitching the air,
the hush gathering
like a shawl about the house.
The broken latch made a soft noise
whenever the breeze changed,
as if
the door itself were practicing
how to welcome.
One evening,
as the kettle sang its small, steady note,
he felt a
different stillness at the threshold.
No footfall.
No knock.
Only a presence,
like a hand cupped around a
candle.
“Hello?” he said,
not turning his head.
A young girl’s voice answered —
bright but gentle,
as though careful
not to spill
whatever she was carrying.
“May I come in?”
“You already have,” he said,
and smiled.
“The latch told me.”
She stepped closer.
He heard the faint clatter of buttons in a
pocket,
the breath of someone who had been running
and was trying not
to show it.
He poured a second cup,
then found her hands by their warmth
and set
the tea there.
“Have we met?” he asked.
“No,” she said.
“But you left your door open.”
They sat without hurry,
the kettle cooling between them,
the forest
leaning close to listen.
And though Ruan could not see her face,
he knew —
by the way the room
felt larger —
that something long expected had arrived.
They talked long into the night,
sipping their tea.
—William Zeitler
2025 August 6
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“The Broken Latch” is found in Stories from GrailHeart, Vol. 1, available for purchase here.