—Revelation 13:4 Chapter 11 ––––––––– HE HAD WOKEN at six o’clock and was now sitting in the breakfast nook of his quiet apartment, reading the morning newspaper as the sun threw purple shadows along the cobblestoned street below. This was his time of the day, before the noise of awakening Boston reached him, urging him forward with a note-filled briefcase. Now he sipped at a cup of hot dark tea and watched the day brighten, thinking how beautiful and distant the furry cirrus clouds looked over the towers of the city. In the last few years he had found that he enjoyed the little things so much. The tea’s sharp taste, the blues and whites that stretched the sky and gave it life, the peaceful silence of the apartment with its shelves of books and busts of Moses and Solomon: he wished so much, as he did always these early mornings, that Katherine could be here to share these things with him. But death, he knew, was never the end. Her death had made him reanalyze his own life; he knew she was at a blessed peace that he had finally learned to share.
