“It’s a portal,” said Crisp, my aged companion as we gazed upon the stone doorway.
“A what?” I asked.
“A portal, a gateway to another realm, world, that sort of thing.”
I had begun to puzzle Crisp’s mental state in recent times and this statement didn’t quell any of those concerns.
“I’ve been through one you know,” she said.
“Yes one year I went through the one down the lane from us at home, ended up in London, 1915. It was all very exciting what with the war going on and everything.”
“You sure that wasn’t your visit to the War Memorial?”
“Well could have been, things get a bit hazy as I get older.”
“I wonder what the original purpose was?” I asked.
“It’s a portal,” said Crisp, “a portal and I’m going through.”
“Respite at last,” I thought as she disappeared through the doorway.