Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

“I don’t even know you.”
She hummed a little under her breath. “Sure you don’t. But there’s only
one way to fix that, right?”
He glared at her. “Really working for that ten, aren’t you?”
She laughed. “Always.” She put her hand on the doorknob. “Coming?”
Wallace looked back down the road. It was full-on dark. The sky was a
field of stars, more than he’d ever seen in his life. He felt small,
insignificant. And lost. Oh, was he lost.
“First step,” he whispered to himself.
He turned back toward the house. He took a deep breath and puffed out his
chest. He ignored the ridiculous slap his flip-flops made as he climbed the
porch steps. He could do this. He was Wallace Phineas Price. People
cowered at the sound of his name. They stood before him in awe. He was
cool and calculating. He was a shark in the water, always circling. He was—
—tripping when the top step sagged, causing him to stumble forward.
“Yeah,” Mei said. “Watch the last one. Sorry about that. Been meaning to
tell Hugo to get that fixed. Didn’t want to interrupt your moment or whatever
was happening. It seemed important.”
“I hate everything,” Wallace said through gritted teeth.
Mei pushed open the door to Charon’s Crossing Tea and Treats. It creaked
on its hinges, and warm light spilled out, followed by the thick scent of
spices and herbs: ginger and cinnamon, mint and cardamom. He didn’t know
how he was able to distinguish them, but there it was all the same. It wasn’t
like the office, a place more familiar than even his own home, stinking of
cleaning fluids and artificial air, all steel and without whimsy, and though he
hated that stench, he was used to it. It was safety. It was reality. It was what
he knew. It was all he knew, he realized with dismay. What did that say about
him?
The cable attached to the hook vibrated once more, seeming to beckon him
forward.
He wanted to run as far as his feet could carry him.
Instead, with nothing left to lose, Wallace followed Mei through the door.