The door gets stuck at about a 45-degree angle, stopped midway through its journey. The warped wooden floor bubbles up there, causing the bottom of the door to meet the raised plank with a sharp squeal that cuts off abruptly. Whether you’re opening it or closing it, the door simply cannot complete its job on its own.
There are only two ways to help it reach its destination.
The first is to force it through the bump—shove hard enough and you’ll hear the gentle scrape of wood against wood, leaving fresh scratches on both the floor and the door’s bottom edge. Quick, but destructive. You’d think that opening and closing it this way would eventually create enough friction that the wood plank would simply give up and allow the door through effortlessly. But as of now, it has not. The bump remains defiant, the sound never softens.
The other way is to step on the floor plank, pressing it down with your weight. Do this and the door glides smoothly past, finally able to finish what it started. A small cooperation between foot and plank, a moment of attention instead of force. Being kind, similar to holding the door for someone, one is holding the floor for the door enabling it to pass through.