THE END OF THE TUNNEL
“Do you really think we might die there?”
“Well, you might. Me? Been there. Done that.”
“Of course. Personal question, but . . . what’s it like to be dead?”
I gave him a look, right in his baby blue contacts. “I’m starting to understand why you don’t have any friends.”
I don’t usually talk like that to a client, but I already had two envelopes full of his cash, and I wasn’t very happy about being out here at night.
“I don’t mean now, Mann. I meant before . . . when you were dead.”
“Oh, then. There was a bright, warm golden light at the end of a long tunnel and all my deceased loved ones were on the other side, beckoning me forward to everlasting joy.”
“Really?”
“No.”