One person walking through a door
Is wasteful,
The woman chides, supercilious,
And demonstrates--
She walks through the door with me,
My face flushes every time.

The woman is sympathetic every time.
The woman is small.

If I wanted to walk through a door unaccompanied,
Could I?
She is always there,
With a hand on my waist,
The pressure belies her build.

The space on the other side of the door
Is similar to the space on the first side.
There isn't even a stairwell!
Yet a woman appears, wearing her credo,
At each door.
I cross the threshold with her and wonder
about the door I could pass through alone.