Odd doors

On the wall some doors have let the job go. A heavy wooden door in a tiled corridor opens and bends straight back into its own frame, so the way through comes out where it went in; a door made of something as clear as air stands open in a whitewashed courtyard and would keep nothing out if it shut; a blue door in an orchard stands open while its knob and lock stay in mid-air where the shut door would be; a full-size panelled door hangs on a keyring with two brass keys; a white door comes up through a wet street at night on two roots, like a tooth; a door of sand stands open in a dune onto a room of more sand; carpet keeps coming out from under a closed hotel door; at the end of a long hallway of white doors there is one tiny door at skirting height, and nobody has the key.

Backrooms has doors like these too: tiny doors in the walls between rooms, doors in the ceiling, doorways too tall or too narrow, and staff doors that are only painted on. Of the staff doors, Cue says “They’re all the same door, really.” The codex proposes that these are what a door does off duty. Whether they are the staff door, off duty, is not on record. They are not the doors to another season: these open onto the same weather they stand in. This entry is proposed by the codex, from pictures on the wall that are all machine-made, and is not canon until approved.