The hospital I did my residency in was a lovely old institute. The long narrow halls echoed with sounds that added to the creepy atmosphere. I loved it, ghosts and all.
Night shifts turned into my favourite time there. The building was never quiet even in the dead of night. It suited my loneliness. I was working on the ward most nights and that was eerie in itself.
One of my patients was an old old man. He had been there for weeks now. He was dying here alone. All the people he had been close to were gone. Most nights I would go sit with him. He and I would commiserate each other on those haunted hours.
He had a gentle intellect and a very vibrant personality. He was a joy to visit. As the time moved forward and he faded away I would just sit with him, quietly holding his hand. We two became friends.
One stormy winter night he asked me to hold him. I only hesitated for a moment before I gently got into bed behind him so we could spoon. He was in his late nineties at the end of a long long life. I was surprised at the vitality I could still feel radiating from him.
I was even more surprised to feel myself getting aroused. I tried to pull away but he held me fast against him.
"Stay?" He whispered.