My room is cleared. My head is cleared. Earlier, around dawn, I took out the last load of trash. I look around and see what's left. Nothing. There is no more Daelyn Rice. As I was. As I am. Or will become. I'm a blank slate

His invitation lingers. So does my question. Why me? I don't know the answer. When I look at myself in the mirror, all I see is a starving, stunted bird who never grew wings and lost all reason to sing.

I don't have to answer. Until you know the question.

Oh sure. Because we always talk about deep down stuff.

I know it's hard on her. If I don't tell her she'll kill me." He pauses. "That was supposed to be funny.

This is my vision-what I imagine I'll pass through on my way to the light. The blue sky, the clouds, the rays of light.

Who becomes you? No one. No one should become me. When I die, I don't want my body or soul inhabited. I wouldn't wish me on anyone.