There are two normal choices in my life.

I have two choices...

In my cozy little room, there are two doors tightly closed.

The thick and heavy iron door stands at the front. A dim light comes through a gap.

The delicate wooden door stands at the back. Indistinct sounds came through the door when it was quiet.

I walked towards a door.

The iron door, or the wooden door?

I put my hand on the handle of the iron door with the intention to turn it.

Somehow the door was extremely heavy.