One door. Two states. No exceptions. Since 2026.
A Door exists in radical opposition to feature creep. Every other website on the internet wants to add one more thing: a login, a newsletter, a cookie banner, a chatbot. We looked at all of that and decided the correct number of features for a website is one. The feature is a door. The door opens. The door closes.
Behind the scenes, A Door is powered by a single hinge, rendered with the same seriousness we would apply to a load-bearing structure. There is no backend. There is no database of doors. There is this door, and your browser's memory of whether it is currently open, which is discarded the moment you leave, the same way real doors do not remember being opened either.
A quiet operations counter tallies every open and close in six-point type in the corner, because even a project this committed to doing nothing still insists on measuring itself.
Someone, somewhere, wanted a door that could open and close. Nothing else. No secret eggs. Nothing but a door. We took that request extremely literally and extremely seriously, and here we both are.
We considered adding rooms behind the door. We considered adding a hallway, a staircase, a second door. Every one of those ideas was rejected in the same meeting it was proposed, on the grounds that a door which leads somewhere is no longer just a door.
A Door has not been submitted for any award, on the theory that a panel of judges evaluating a door that only opens and closes would eventually ask what else it does, and we would have to tell them: nothing. We would rather avoid that conversation.
What is behind the door?
The wall the door is mounted in. There has never been anything else back there.
Does the door lock?
No. It also does not need to, since nothing is trying to get in.
Why does it sometimes make a different sound?
Doors get tired too. We have not looked into it further.