Gerald's brain slowly regained the consciousness. He could see the pinkish light only to realise he had his eyes closed.
He was tired... very tired. His body felt as heavy as a whale, and he could not find the energy to lift even his finger. This felt good. This silence and numbness felt good.
He did not want this moment to end. Was he in heaven?
He laughed, shaking his head mentally.
The priest said one needs to do only good to get a chance to climb those stairs to heaven. And as far as Gerald remembered, the only good he had ever done was for himself.
The number of blessings he had ever received in his life was as equal to the sweetness in the seawater around Warthford Island. None!
"Gerald... Gerald..."
That sweet voice stirred something deep within him, a song of melancholy perhaps. That voice was inviting, sweet. It called him earnestly, telling him to open his eyes. But, the peace he had finally found was too delectable to leave.
