The room smelled of old urine wrapped in the sharp scent of pine cleaners. On the bed by the window an old man was struggling to die.

The hospital staff did their best to make it as easy a transition as possible, with organ music playing softly on a CD unit on the side table, and the curtain wrapped around his bed for privacy. The window was open. His roommate had been moved for the day to another room.

As if the old man needed a chant to lure him like a siren over the border. As if his soul couldn't find its own way to the sky.

As if he wanted to sneak through and have nobody notice he'd gone.