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.”

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