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I beca on what seemed to be a set of tracks I knew because I could feel the approaching train ainst the bottoms of my feet My heart sped up, too

For crying out loud, did I just say that death isn’t scary anylands

I puttrain in disgust I’d had a long, long day, battling the forces of evil, utterly destroying the Red Court, rescuingshot to death That kind of thing

I was supposed to be at peace, or ht, or in line forin an oven equipped with a stereo that played nothing but Manilow That’s what happens when you die, right? YouQuestions of life

“You do not get run over by trains,” I said crossly I folded erently as the train ca my way

“What’s wrong with you?” bellowed ahand wrapped around ht biceps and hauled me off the track by main force “Don’t you see the damned train?”

Said train roared by like a living thing, a furious beast that howled and wailed in disappointe raked ate of the platform

After a subjective eternity, it passed, and I lay on flat ground for alickety-split When it finally began to slon, I took stock of s

I was sprawled on a platform of clean but worn concrete, and suddenly found hts, as at o area I looked around the platforh it felt familiar, I couldn’t exactly place it There were no other commuters No flyers or other advertise

And a pair of polished wing tip shoes

I looked up a rather th of cheap trousers and cheap suit and found aback at ive the impression that if you backed a car into hilittered very brightly, hinting at a lively intellect, his hairline had withdrawn considerably from where it must have been at one