I watched the door for a time before I propped myself up against my pillows. The sun light coming through the thin net curtains played around its oaken frame. I took a shallow, rattling breath and held the handkerchief in front of my mouth; ready for the coughing and bloody exhale. Once the wheezing had ceased I looked back at the door and decided on when I should open it.

I shuffled around my kitchen preparing some toast, wondering if I would go back to my room and walk through the door after I'd eaten breakfast. Or if I would march through by lunch time having found a second wind. Perhaps when evening came and the sun was dipping below the horizon and the day was at an end; that would be a poetic time to slip through and see for myself.

I took a cup of tea upstairs with me and perched myself on the edge of my bed, letting my tired legs dangle against the trailing duvet. I quietly watched the shadows dance off of the deep brown shades while the morning passed. I would quite like to capture this moment as a painting, I thought. Alas, I feel ready right now. I set down my tea on the bedside table and put my feet back through my slippers, before shuffling over to the handle. I pressed down on the handle and opened it a crack, letting a rush of fresh air blow over me. I took a deep breath, and for the first time in years I didn't exhale droplets of blood in a coughing fit. I smiled and walked through the threshold.