It seemed all he could do was ponder death. Death was all he thought of. That thought stung. “Would not a person think of death, if he or she was to die soon?â€?
A sigh escaped him, as he shook his head with regret. “Of course they would.â€? He replied to himself, frowning even deeper. “I suppose death should be welcomed. Dreading death only makes the wait so much worse.â€? His voice sounded so old, so frail and utterly devoid of command. It was all he could do to breath, much less talk. Yet the air was invigorating him, giving him a bit of strength with each lungful taken in. The Sea of Wishes could be heard breaking against the ancient rocks of the cliff below, a crashing thrum that always made Ace sleepy in the evening. During the day, gulls hung like kites in the sky outside his window, cawing and squealing for the fish below.