“I’m afraid of death,” he said quietly.
I didn’t know what to say. But he was waiting for an answer.
Perhaps he’d never told anyone before.
If there was one thing I wasn’t afraid of myself, it was death. It could come only as a relief, a liberation from life’s torment, its badness and petty malice; from those who constantly craved, who took and never gave.
“Everyone is from time to time,” I said after a pause. “Even grown-ups