At the Age of 84, while walking a trail he'd loved in his youth, Reader collapsed of heart failure. A member of his hiking club, a woman 20 years his junior who would never know that her crush on him was reciprocated, gave him CPR until paramedics arrived. He was pronounced Dead On Arrival, but by then his attention was already elsewhere. The world's grip on him had been tenuous these last few years.

Beyond the tunnel and the light, Reader came to an unadorned room. He found himself in a chair without memory of having sat down. He noticed absences first - absence of the aches and pains that had been his constant companion these last few years. Absence of furnishings. Absence of tiredness, also something that had become a part of being alive.

But while absences are noteworthy when they appear, they fade into the background quickly. It wasn't long before Reader took note of the only other presence in the room.