Closet

He paused before he approached the door. It had always been right in front of him, yet he'd never known what lay inside, nothing apart from some odd article that seemed to overflow. He walked tentatively towards her closet, as if prying, and his hand moved towards the knob. His head was full of theories of what he might see. He was tense, yet excited, he felt it was important, and was looking forward to it. He had been considering it for a while, even the possibility of finding something that might weigh heavily on an otherwise perfect relationship. But it wasn't the darker theories that worried him. He loved her for reasons unlinked. He was perturbed merely by the existence of a closet, it might be full of empty things, things that are too inconsequential to be considered for more than a glance, but it was bothersome nonetheless.
She had often hinted at her discomfort with his curiosity about it, and he had always politely respected her position. But things were different now, curiosity had evolved into confusion, and confusion had escalated to desperation. He had to know, and there was nothing to worry about. A quick glance, and that'll be that. The greatest of all mysteries solved, dissolving the last mile of distance between them.
His hand slowly twisted the knob, and pulled the door towards him. The door groaned, as if in warning, but he was too engaged to notice. To end his misery, he flung the door open. He regretted it and was half worried that he would break a pile of dust and leave behind a noticeable mess. He didn't see it at first, the closet seemed empty, but then his eyes adjusted to the darkness and there it was, sitting quietly in the darkest corner. He squinted in an effort to see it, but when he did, he was left gasping for breath.
It was over. It was her.