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My mother lives on the third floor, with a balcony. The door to the balcony is opened by lifting a lever-like handle.
When Frank was young, his mother taught him how to open doors by pushing down the handle.
Once I was staying at my Mum's with my cats. At that time, I was still a smoker (quit 6 years ago - whohoo!), and I would go out on Mum's balcony for my vice. Frank and Nikki always wanted to go along, of course. What cat could resist a door to the Great Wild?
One day, when it was cold outside, and I didn't want to spend ages waiting for the cats to decide to come in again, I left them inside when I went out on the balcony. Frank was frantic on the inside, I could see him screaming at me through the window. How could that stoopid woman go out and leave him to suffocate inside? Then he noticed the handle on the door. I could see the lightbulb light up over his head. The handle was up, the way it usually is on a closed door, but in this case, of course the door was open, just pushed to. Frank assumed it was shut, and pushed down the handle. Great! Now I can get out and breathe, thinks Frank.
Well, now the door was locked, of course. However much Frank scrabbled on the inside, it wouldn't open. It had no handle on the outside. Instead of Frank getting out, he had locked the door so I couldn't get in. Fortunately, my Mum was at home, and when I'd tapped on the window for a while, she came and let me in.
Maybe Frank knew the door would be locked, maybe it was his revenge for not being let out.
Editor's note:
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