" he says looking up from the paperwork cluttering his desk.I smile weakly and nod. I look out the big window at the city and wonder if anyone has eve... seen me. I wish that thought was enough to finally make me stop coming here. But I need to be here. It's an addiction. I HAVE to be here.He's ready for me. He looks up from his desk and turns his chair out to the side. My invitation. I walk over to him without looking at his face. My knees hit the carpet in front of him. My hands reach for his. ”Once I was awake enough to remember where I was and who was beside me, I laid awake a long time considering what that meant. The death voice showed up at times when it made no sense for me to be worried about dying. Mark Hancock was the epitome of white bread. He had no identifiable enemies, worked in a nondescript job, making no important decisions, and his very existence screamed ‘ordinary.If death wanted me, it was for reasons that weren’t yet clear. There must be some important task I was. More

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