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Sometimes he senses the ghost of a hand upon his head. A caress lifting
weight from his heart; a touch of Mercy reaching all the way into
limbo where a child holds court with the shadows of his past. They pace around him but can't see him or speak to him. Images and memories, they're sealed away from their living selves until the day comes when Heaven is ready to fall. One of the shades is special. He can see the silver child, but his words are kept elsewhere so he can't tell his friend that "It wasn't your fault".
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