Moving Up by Shea Newton

In my house there’s no door at the top of the stairs. There is only a wall, ending. There are tiny yellow flowers on the wallpaper.

At first I pushed my fingers against the wall. I knocked. I peeled the wallpaper.

I yelled so the landlady would hear, “Why do you have a staircase with no door?”

“There were only stairs to build with,” she called back from the ground floor.

“I don’t believe you,” I said, “you’re hiding something.”

“There isn’t any door,” she said.

“I’m hungry,” I said. “Climbing is difficult work.”

“Come on down,” she said.

Shea Newton lives in Idaho. He has been told there are wolves but all he’s seen are coyotes.