Heaven

When you run out of ideas and words, and feel no more stress, and stop checking your investment activity online, and no one cares where you are, and no one gets hurt or feels happy any longer by what you say, and you no longer feel tired, and you don’t feel good any more drinking a glass of scotch, you’ll be ready to die. A naked old woman will be there, and she will take your hand. You’ll walk with her into a field, into a kind of garden, in which there are lots of crickets. She’ll say, You made it, you’re finally here. And she’ll introduce you to a group of people with giant red eyes and a woman who doesn’t have legs. And you’ll start to get panicked like your first day at camp, or when your mother dropped you off each morning in kindergarten on her way to work. And you’ll ask the old woman, Where am I? And she’ll say, This is heaven. And, sensing your terror, she'll add, You’ll get used to it.