Dante's Fire

Chapter Thirty Six: Andre

ANDRE

It was two days to Christmas and he was at a hospital, but he did not know it yet. The Christmas part that is. He damn well knew he was at a hospital. He was reminded every time the doctor lumbered in to check up on him, every time a nurse shuffled by, every time the day turned to night and the only glimpse of New York he had, of snow, was the one he saw flutter outside the windows.

In retrospect, it was his obliviousness that kept him whole.

When the dreams released him from their tight, underwater grip and he resurfaced, Doctor Ingrid admitted that Trent had died. Passed on, were the exact words that she used. 'Passed on'. Passage implied smooth locomotion. It implied fluidity. It implied willingness to go. There was nothing willing, even remotely, about the way that Trent had 'passed on'. There were tyres screeching, screaming their displeasure at being maneuvered so. There were shots and shouts and shattered shot glasses. Nothing about the entire affair came close to fluid. T