[ WP ] Chivalry is Dead : a girl spends her entire life thinking that every door is automatic , but discovers on her deathbed that she was actually haunted for her entire life by an extremely polite ghost .

Helene struggled to sit up, her spindly arms trembling under the diminished weight of her upper torso. Her skin, crepey and delicate, seemed to glow in the light that spilled in from the hospital's hallway. Her chest felt like it was filled with gelatin and she strained to cough, just a little, just enough to relieve the awful pressure. She could feel it getting thicker, heavier. It would n't go away. In a blip of cognitive awareness, she blithely wondered why death had to be so painful... was it not enough to simply know you are dying? 
 
 Yes, she knew she was not long for this world. Helene could n't remember when she had came to accept it, but she had, and now it was as deeply ingrained in her psyche as her love of stories about colonial America and her obsession with key lime pie. 
 
 Once her vain attempt to cough was reconciled, she carefully lowered herself back down and stared at the open doorway. From her view, she could see several doors of other patient rooms, and the double doors of the entrance of the ward too. She stared at them often and thought about them... she had little else to stare at or look at. She thought it was a terrible shame that the automatic sensors on the doors did n't work... did the hospital not bring enough money in to keep them working? Such a shame that all those sick people and hardworking nurses have to open their own doors, Helene thought. Such a nice comfort to have... an automatic door. 
 
 Helene drifted off to sleep.. she did n't remember when she fell asleep, or what she dreamed of, but when she woke up her eyes rested on a pudgy, ruddy-faced man with soft features and thinning auburn hair sitting in the corner of her room. For a long time he simply sat and smiled sweetly, his hands clasped across his chest as he reclined a bit in his chair. After some hesitation, his mouth dropping open and then snapping shut in a flustered grimace, he spoke. 
 
 `` I... I did n't wake you, did I? I would feel awfully embarrassed if I did... I know it can be a bit unnerving to have someone sitting and staring at you,'specially given your current state...'', his voice trailed off as he waved a thick hand in her general direction in a circular gesture as if he were conjuring her up out of thin air. In the dim light of the room, Helene could somehow see every detail of his face, right down to the furious blush of his generous cheeks. She briefly considered why he might be there and how she could see him so clearly in the dark. 
 
 `` I suppose I do n't know who you are, sir. Might you have the wrong room?'' 
 
 The man cleared his throat and continued. `` Oh, no... no, dear, I'm definitely in the right room. In fact, I believe I'm here at precisely the right time as well.''. With a great deal of effort, he lifted himself out of the chair and trudged across the room to her, a curious, boyish grin spreading across his face. `` I bet you do n't even know me. I would not expect that you would.'' 
 
 By now, Helene was terribly confused and a bit annoyed as well. She pursed her lips, fur she could n't think of a single word to push through them, but she silently reproached him for his audacity in sitting in her room and talking to her.. imagine, a stranger! Sitting in a dying woman's room just to chit chat! 
 
 The man stood next to Helene's bed, directly to her right, and crouched down so their eyes met squarely. `` Helene, I know this might be a bit hard to believe, but... well, I suppose there's no other way to say it.. I'm something of a... personal doorman.''. He snickered a bit, but to Helene it sounded more like a mouse was caught in his nostrils. `` I just ca n't help but be a gentleman, I suppose. I have always liked the idea of opening a door for a lady. Call it a habit that carried on long after I didn't.''. He stood up and glanced down the hallway, at the bustling nurses and weary visitors weaving about. 
 
 Helene listed with growing curiosity and not just a little confusion. `` You... you open doors? ``, she finally asked, bluntly. `` You mean all those doors that have been opening for me were n't automatic? I just assumed...''. She thought about all those years of doors that swung open for her... as a little girl, she would run full speed through her kitchen and out the back door to her aunt's rose garden... as a teenager she liked to dance back and forth through doorways, dodging doors that always seem to open just in time... as a harried mother who always seemed to have her arms filled with babies or groceries, it sure was nice to live in a house with automatic doors. She could n't imagine a life without them. 
 
 The man continued to look down the hallway, with growing bemusement. `` We all have our little quirks, I suppose... some fellas like to tip a hat. Others bring a rose or two... I always felt opening a door was far more practical.''. He turned to look at Helene, a growing softness and warm welling in his eyes. `` Helene.. I know you're in a lot of pain. A lot of it. Wo n't you let me open one more door for you?''. 
 
 Helene twisted and wringed her arthritic hands and leaned her head back on the pillow... the throbbing swell of congestion in her chest was getting worse... it was getting more and more difficult to breathe. The man reached out for her hands and rubbed them lovingly... his touch released the pain in her chest instantly, and she felt lighter than air. Her head and heart swelled with joy and wonderment, and across the room a new door appeared. It was an oak door, as tall as the ceiling with an ornate carving of a tree, its roots stretching all the way to the bottom. The man waved his hand and the oak door opened. 
 
 Helene could not see what was beyond the door, but she trusted this man. He had never led her astray before, and she knew he would n't now. 
 

