"Come, Daniel, my friend. It's time." No goodbyes. Warm sand presses against my soles—greedy, patient. I close my eyes. No difference. Only black. Endless black. The wind scourges my wet skin. My tongue tastes of copper and dust. My fingers numb at the tips. My vision narrows to pinpricks of gold. I want to collapse. I want the roar back—the flesh peeled from bone, the mercy of being finished. But I do not fall. I walk. I follow him into the night, the boat, the jet, the hatc