The angel of death, you messed everything up. You came for the wrong person. Somewhere, I know, a baby must be being born—a life arriving and a life leaving. And I feel both things, the joy of both. Houndy is gazing at me through the mists, Houndy so close he can still reach out and touch me. He’s sorry. He’s happy but he’s sorry. And me saying, don’t worry I’m coming soon please wait for me Houndy love wait because I’ll be there I promise.
