He felt it through the door.

“Retana,” he said and banged the door.

He set down his suitcase and knocked on the door.

They came out onto the gallows through a door in the wall.

Something in the door clicked several times and it swung open.

From Smith’s back door Liz could see ore barges way out in the lake going toward Boyne City.

From Smith’s back door you could look out across the woods that ran down to the lake and across the bay.

She liked it the way he walked over from the shop and often went to the kitchen door to watch for him to start down the road.

The lawn started at the beach and ran towards the front door for a quarter of a mile, jumping over sundials and brick walks and burning gardens⁠—finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run.