Time passed, as night and day blended into a complex gray of light and moving people. At best guess, Riley sat in the waiting room for a day and a half before an older woman took up the chair beside him. She appeared to be in her nineties and wore a patient expression of someone who had seen two lifetimes of experiences.
“I’ve seen that face before,” she said as her way of introduction.
Riley brought his head up and glanced about the room to see if she perhaps was talking to anyone else. No one sat near them. He made another guess and checked to see if she had died. She was old, but alive. How did she talk to him? Riley had no answer for her.
“It’s OK,” she continued, “most people pretend they can’t see me either. They want nothing to remind them of death. Somehow, they think I was neve
