was close. He had been two hours working. Had taken a juice and some toast for breakfast and pulled the car listening to the station forever. They were my last minutes of life and was paralyzed. Fear and lack of time make you sweat and think effectively in quick fixes. Do not think, just act. All my thought about how life would die, what would he say, who to be, what music I wanted for my funeral, which doctor should revenge my children. I never thought so. wanted to say goodbye to many people. From my parents, my children Carl and Evan, my best friend Sarah, Edward, my first girlfriend bitch Evey and my ex-wife. He had taken custody of the children in addition to the house, the dog and part of my monthly salary. I give the same end of each month her husband, my boss. Smashed my life, never wanted to know more about her. But there he was, scoring his damn number as I thought about how I hated her. That was the call, the last one, the only person who could leave: it was she.
Why did not matter. Only does it lay on the floor crying, holding my hands shaking the device frightened as a child and telling her he loved her, always took her in my heart, that he regretted not able to make us happy as promised, he did not want forget about me and always take care of her from afar. I hated her with all my might, indeed, but that was just the visible result of so much that he loved her. These
dying seconds before I realized what life is. Ironically, forty-eight years later. And you know what? It is not that complicated. Scientific theories do not seek, look no logical explanation. All life is compressed in the moments before death. Only then will you realize the extent and form your own, which is essentially what makes you who you are. And you've wasted your youth trying to link you to the popular blonde.
not your name or your family or your friends or enemies, not your personal taste or problems. It is the seat you be touched during the flight and the office that you were assigned when you got the job. When Claire called me realize who I was: a complex puzzle a layer of makeup after another to conceal what we really are beyond fear and pride.
Yes, yes, now you can see from their seats cheesy, from their couches as they hear the TV in the background and belch beer.
The ground shook and the fire was encroaching on the upper floors. Mine was the eighty-two. Dispatch seven. I heard people screaming and crowding on the stairs. People were crying or falling outside my window without a parachute and with open arms waiting to embrace death.
The answer to the question what life is another question:
Who do you call it?
Maybe 911?
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