Mike Hanneman followed his father down a corridor in St. Joseph’s Hospital. Leading them was a prim, middle-aged man in a white jacket, who moved briskly and said little. The overhead lights reflected off the well-polished floor and the silver plates of the numbers of the doors on either side. More doctors in white coats
In the darkness, your hands outstretched before you, you are falling through eternity. Focus. Deep breath and hold. Release. Focus. You are perfectly alone and alone is perfect. The comforting veil of darkness becomes scratched with pinpricks of light. Soon the images will come. Focus. A shrill cry of surprise. He drowsily unfurled his hands
