“I suppose you can stop him.”
“Your answers bring more questions than clarity,” George muttered discontentedly, sitting comfortably in his favorite chair. “And after all, he brought me a sprout!”
“And where is it, your sprout?”
“Well, over there, on the floor ...” He remarked with some doubt.
“Then let’s go and see. There is no sprout. It was a mere illusion.”
“Illusion?”
“The flower from your dream simply doesn’t exist. All these are legends, inventions of humanity in pursuit of power and eternity. I'm very sorry... But you still can have some time to save your soul. And this is more important now.”
“For whom is it more important?”
“God sent me to help you find yourself...”
“I don’t get it.”
“I was instructed to save you from the Devil’s encroachment on your soul.”
“Why is that?!”
“Why? For your own good!”
George pillowed his head on his hand trying not to fall asleep. No, he, perhaps, wasn’t a bit afraid that they would come for him since he sincerely believed that he had nothing to lose. And, in fact, there was no one to lose him. Rather, he was interested, fascinated by her story. On the one hand, it didn’t seem logical. On the other hand, there was some sense in her words, though beyond his understanding yet.
“Afterlife good?” The man asked lazily.
“W-well, yes ...”
“So, that's what you're up to! In this case, young lady, do not bother me – I go to sleep!
“How is that!”
“That's how! I live here, not there,” he explained, pointing his index finger at the ceiling. “So I need my good here and not somewhere in the future!”
“What about your soul?!”