Cliché is as Cliché does.

His hand hesitated.

Like there was an invisible force holding his arm in place, all he could do was stare at the door in front of him.

No matter how many commands he sent to his arm, his hand, his fingers- knock, dang it- they wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t help but hesitate.

Each breath he took with each second that passed ( Read more... )