“I think we pass through here and learn a lesson we’re supposed to learn and then move on.”

“This is an unnatural place for us to be…” I trailed off.

“In our bodies, yes. Why do you think we’re in so much pain?”

“You’re talking about our souls,” I said.

“Don’t make me sound crazy. But, yeah, I’ve been thinking about this shit a lot.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy at all.”

“We’re just here for a human experience. And maybe that human experience is just to learn one thing. For me, it’s learning how to forgive. Like, someone has a life with terrible parents or something, and maybe all I was supposed to do was learn to forgive them and maybe a handful of people who came after them. And that’s it. Then I can move on to whatever’s next for me. That was what I came here for.”

“To be able to move on.”

“Don’t you think so? If we’re not here to learn something, what the fuck are we here for? Dealing with all this?”

I shrugged.

“Really?”

“I really don’t know,” I said.

“Aren’t you supposed to be an expert in this shit?”

“I’m not an expert in anything.”

“What’s next, then? Give me the next question.”

“What day of your life would you like to live over again and why?”

“I don’t have an answer for that one.”

He didn’t say anything else, just shook his head. It was too soon to ask. I had skipped ahead in the questions, because I really wanted to know. It was strange to watch someone go deep into their memory to try and piece together the story of their lives. Watching them hunt around for some best answer, decide what was too painful to hide, and even more painful to allow to the surface.

“Do you want to take a break?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“That’s fine.”

“I’m not the type of person who wants to relive happy days. Only the days that cause me the most guilt.”

“Who doesn’t want a do-over?” I asked, hoping he’d say more.

“Let’s take a break,” he said.

Even though Daniel was dying he still had color in his face, a warmed tan that made clear he still left the house occasionally. He went to the bathroom, and I got up to look around. His kitchen was the only place that showed any kind of evidence of his sickness. Near the sink sat half a dozen orange prescription bottles neatly in a row, and a pile of tissues brimmed out of the trash that looked like they were speckled with blood. When I looked at the pill labels, I noticed they were painkillers I knew well.