April 9, 2013 by tonyberkman
“What’s it like up there in Heaven, Georgie?” Walt held the radio close to his mouth, eyes focused upon the skies as if he could see her eight-year-old face staring back at his.
He waited politely for a moment, hands trembling with emotion. The moment passed with no response.
He raised his left hand to his mouth, mimicking the crackle of an incoming message on a police radio. “Like nothing you could ever imagine, Walter.” He whispered, raising his tone two octaves above his natural pitch. “For me, Heaven is a giant sandbox and I have to build mountains to reach the flying dinosaurs in order to slay them and motes to ward out evil bullies from my castle. And sometimes I while away the day (even though there is no “night”; I’ll refer to it as “day” so you can understand) by hiding in the reeds of my mote…
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