Rationality and tact tucked themselves in the back of my mind as I approached Dane Dericaan. Rounding the nearest shelf, I came to a section labeled: AUTOGRAPHED COPIES. At that moment, my concern didn't lie with the absurdity of why I was there; I simply wanted to meet this unsuspecting man, leafing through seemingly random books.

Regardless of what he took from the shelf, Dane began reading small portions from the center of the book, not from the front as I would have done or from the back for those who really needed to know the ending. It was a peculiar way of sampling a story. As I edged closer to him, picking up a book jacketed in sky blue, I heard my comrade, Spencer, vanish away from mortal sight, which created a light draft in the bookstore.

I cleared my throat gently. "If you don't mind me saying, you have a very unique way of browsing titles."

"I suppose so," he replied, keeping his eyes focused on the page.

"Any particular reason?" I asked. I needed this connection to strengthen if there was any hope of a successful initiation. As of this moment, the entire exchange reeked of awkwardness.

"I treat books as I do people," he said, head still down. "When you meet someone, it's never at the beginning or the end; it's in the middle."

"Fascinating. Truly fascinating. Now, if I were to --"

He snapped the book shut. "Can I help you with something?"

"Oh. Impatience!" I replied excitedly. "I can certainly help you with that particular flaw."

"Excuse me?" he responded incredulously. "Do I even know you?"

"My name is Herbert Spetter, Mr. Dericaan," I said, extending an open hand. "It's an absolute pleasure."

Dane took my hand, shaking it hesitantly, more out of courtesy than anything else. "Right… I suppose the pleasure is yours. Now, if you'll excuse me, my friend is performing a reading from her novel and I must go --"

The entire store fell silent. Any and all in attendance had disappeared from their chairs as well as any shoppers in the aisles. Even Katie left the lectern empty with the microphone emitting a faint feedback. All service kiosks were unattended and the baristas at the corner cafe were nowhere to be found. Even the light muzak playing over the recessed ceiling speakers hushed to nothingness.

"What is this?" Dane probed as he quickly released his hand from mine.

"This…" I replied. "This is where we get to know each other a little better, Mr. Dericaan."

"I think it's time for me to leave," he said, attempting to keep his composure.

"Off to see your brother, Kolton?"

"How could you possibly know about that?" he asked, eyes squinted. "Have you been following me?"

"I didn't have to," I replied, thumbing through the pages of the sky blue book in my hands. "A single touch is all it takes for me to know where you've been and, more importantly, where you're going."

Dane examined the hand I shook. "Look, Herb," he said with a hint of disparagement. "That's a really impressive parlor trick, but I'm going to have to ask you to stop this immediately."

"Well, if you have to ask, then by all means, ask."

Taking a deep breath, Dane said commandingly, "Please, stop."

The store remained empty without a single sound filling the space, other than the shuffling of pages from my book. The blood drained from Dane's face as he pivoted in several directions, his mouth agape.

"Feel better?" I asked, my attention never leaving the page. "It's always a good idea for you mortals to get that out of your system. I know, as a people, you yearn for control."

"How on earth is this possible?"

"You know," I began, brushing off his question as I continued reading. "I've always been a fan of Norton Juster."

"The Phantom Tollbooth?" Dane replied, feeling aggravated. "If you end this little game of yours right now, I'll be more than happy to buy you a copy."

"That's mighty kind of you, but I'm not one for material possessions. Are you familiar with this book?"

"Of course I am," he said, temper shortening. "I had to read it in Sixth Grade."

Dane jogged over to one of the bookstore's many windows, which overlooked an empty sidewalk and shuttered businesses on every side of the street. He pounded the glass, hoping somebody, anybody would hear him.

He took a look at his wristwatch. 8:27 p.m. "This isn't possible."

After flipping through the book, I'd finally found the page I was searching for and read aloud: "So many things are possible --"

"-- just as long as you don't know they're impossible," Dane finished, whispering.

"Top marks, Mr. Dericaan. You are quite the literary aficionado."

"An 'aficionado' suggests I'm enthusiastic about the topic," he replied, now attempting to jostle the front doors open. "I haven't felt that way in quite some time. It's just something I'm good at."

"That you are," I said, pointing at the banners advertising Katie's shining story, The Curse of Grace. "There are very few who could have turned an exceedingly mediocre manuscript into a soon-to-be world-wide phenomenon."

"How are you so sure it's not just a matter of dumb luck?" he asked, stopping in his tracks, facing away from me.

"You're no gambler," I said, gently placing my hand on his shoulder. He winced, but ultimately allowed the closed distance. "You learned at a very early age not to leave anything to chance. Your mother taught you that as did your father, God rest their souls. And your brother's teaching you that same thing right now."

Dane jerked around quickly shoving me in the center of my chest, sending me several steps backward. "If you know what's good for you, you'll leave my brother out of… whatever this is!"

"Hmmm… anger," I replied. "It's not the greatest color on you, but I believe we can work with the motivation behind it."

He scoffed. "There are absolutely no words. This must be what insanity feels like," Dane said, brushing his hand through the back of his hair.

"You've spent so much of your life wallowing in apathy; it's refreshing to see you're capable of an explosive reflex. That will undoubtedly come as a useful skill when dealing with mortals."

"Mortals? Humans?" Dane asked with an arched eyebrow. "Like you and me?"

"More like you," I stated. "For now."

Dane pinched the top of his nose, between his closed eyes. "Can you just tell me why you're here? Why me? Why now?"

"Well, Mr. Dericaan, that is the only question which really matters, isn't it?" I said, tracing the cover of the book with my forefinger. "But, are you actually ready for the answer? In my experience, it's always best to ease mortals into the reality of what is happening."

"And what is happening?" Dane asked, breathing deeply.

"Simply stated: You're at the threshold of everything you know and all you do not."

"And if I decide to stay on the sane side of things?"

"Sane?" I said with a chuckle. "Look around you. An entire bookstore filled with people somehow slipped into thin air. The outside world is completely devoid of life before 9 o'clock on a Friday night. And you're standing here with a perfect stranger who knows you inside and out after a simple graze of your shoulder. Although it feels impossible, you'll have to trust me when I say, you've already taken your first step through the threshold."

Dane tried to swallow all that I said, turning in place, taking in the empty space around him. No amount of logic or reasoning could help grasp any answers to the questions whizzing through his mind.

"Insanity," he spoke softly. "Right now, I'm losing my grasp on what's real and this squirrely man is the beginning of dissociation..."

"Excuse me, 'squirrely'?"

"...more ailments are bound to manifest, creating an alternative -- OW!"

Dane rubbed the top of his head as I fiddled with the lone gray hair I had plucked. "You know, it's an Old Wives' Tale that three grow in its place."

"Seriously, what the hell?" Dane asked, still rubbing his head.

"Oh, no. I'm not here on behalf of lower management. I'm here for the top floor CEO."

Dane pierced me with his dark eyes. "So, you mean to tell me you're an angel? Herbert, the angel."

"Acceptance," I smiled, placing the sky blue book on the shelf. "Still needs a little work, but we're getting there. Next lesson: Bargaining."

With the snap of my fingers along with a chilly draft, I vanished from Dane's sight.

"That process seems a little backward, doesn't --" he began before giving into a loud, uncontrollable sneeze.

"God bless you," chimed a bookstore employee, picking up the copy of The Phantom Tollbooth, next to Dane's feet.

The store was once again filled with a full section of fans in chairs facing Katie as she read another excerpt from her novel. The light, bouncing muzak filled the smallest silence while shoppers wove through the aisles, browsing for their next must-read story. Window shoppers outside meandered from one store to the next, enjoying the brisk evening. Dane glanced at his wristwatch once again. 8:27 p.m.

"That's impossible," he whispered to himself.

"Excuse me, sir," the bookstore employee said. "I believe you must've dropped this."

"Oh, thank you so much," Dane replied, still trying to shake off what had to have been a hallucination.

He slowly shook his head as he started replacing the children's novel. When the spine of the book met the shelf, he noticed a dog-eared page. A part of him knew exactly what page it was.

So many things are possible just as long as you don't know they're impossible.

Against his own rationale, Dane decided to purchase the bewildering copy, for his curiosity outweighed his common sense. He ran over the series of events over and over in his mind while he made the three-block walk to St. Michael's Hospital, hoping he could make sense of everything that happened. While deep in his thoughts, he muttered to himself, all the way to the sixth floor.

"Good evening, Dane," chirped Nurse Urie, shaking Dane from his criss-crossed thoughts. "How are you?"

"It's been a long day, Urie," Dane replied with a half-smile. "How's he doing?"

She grinned. "High spirits with that signature sarcastic wit. Same as always."

"It's cute as long as you're not growing up with it."

"Oh, I'm sure that's the truth."

After rounding the corner at the nurses' station, Dane walked down to the end of the corridor to Room B-7, marked with the name: DERICAAN, K. Inside, it felt colder than usual. Then again, there was nothing usual about today.

"There's my big brother," wheezed Kolton, riddled with tubes and monitoring devices of every shape and size. "The prodigal son has returned!"

"I'm sorry it took so long," Dane replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. "This last project took much longer than I ever could have anticipated."  

"I wanna know -- what nobody are you making a somebody?" Kolton asked, stifling a cough.

"C'mon, man. You know --"

"Yeah, yeah. Non-disclosure hub-bub."

"It's an NDA and it keeps everything I do legitimate."

"Legally speaking," Kolton said with a smirk.

"Yeah. Legally speaking."

Clearing his throat, Kolton adjusted his bed, so he could sit up a touch straighter. "So, are you gonna tell me what's going on or am I gonna have to die a little more before that happens."

Dane shook his head. "You know I hate it when you say that."

"I know, but it's effective."

"Honestly, I think I've just been working too much. What would you say if I took some time off and stayed here with you?"

"Truth be told, I think we'd kill each other. Should we talk beneficiaries now or…"

"I'm being serious, Kolton."

"I don't know, bro," he said, kicking his legs into a more comfortable position. "What exactly is bringing all this on? You usually can't wait to get to the next thing, the next project, the next lonely damsel who needs your strength of syntax and sentence structure!"

Dane pulled the pillow from underneath Kolton's head. "If you weren't so pathetically weak, I'd hit you."

"Are you kidding me? One touch of this here red button and Nurse Urie will be in here, kicking your ass into next Wednesday."

"That's creative," Dane said, lightly rubbing his knuckles against his brother's scalp. "Why Wednesday, huh?"

"I get a break from treatment that day and I want to make sure I have a front-row seat of her kicking your ass."

After mock-wrestling for a moment, Dane knocked over his bookbag and the light blue novel fell to the floor.

"What's that?" asked Kolton.

Dane turned the book in his hands. "The Phantom Tollbooth. Remember it?"

"I remember the Spark Notes," Kolton laughed. "I've gotta ask: Aren't you on a higher reading level? I figured you were close to 'Nerdtastic'."

"That's Master of Nerdtastic to you, youngin."

Dane flipped through the pages of the book once again, coming to the same folded spot, feeling the twinge of confusion and disconcertment. The stress of work, the clutches of insomnia, the worry over Kolton -- it all came together in some waking nightmare, some involuntary illusion that needed an explanation.

"Just let it be," Dane quietly muttered.

"All right, Kolton," Urie said with a toothy smile. "Are you ready to go down for some testing?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am!" Kolton cheered with a wide grin. "I'm ready to ruin all the bell curves and y'all are going to have to find a whole new line of testing!"

"Dane, are you going to wait here?" Urie asked as she wheeled Kolton out of the room.

"Yes," he replied. "I'll be right here when he gets back."

Dane gripped the cover of the book tightly before deeply sighing and tossing it on the chair, closest to the monitors. After a few cleansing breaths, he moved toward the window, watching everyone come and go, the sick and the healthy alike. Some, so desperate to be well; Others, so terrified of falling from their peak. Regardless of their ailment, he wished for one thing: they would all have the chance to leave this hospital alive.

"Unfortunately, that's not how hospitals work. That's not how life works."

Dane dug his fingers into the window sill. "Herbert."

"You're incredibly unique. Do you know that, Mr. Dericaan? Here I thought you were just another average fly on the wall. But, no. You radiate hope. And that's something this world sorely needs."

"Am I going crazy?" he asked earnestly, still faced away.

"Oh, no," I replied. "Crazy would be an easy explanation. What awaits you -- not so simple."

Dane turned around, locking eyes for the very first time. "What do you want from me?"

"It's not about what I want. This is what needs to happen."

"Which is…?"

"Do you know what's happening around you? Can you fully comprehend it?"

Every sound within the hospital flooded Dane's mind -- the rushed footsteps in the Emergency Room, the sobs echoing in Intensive Care, a newborn's first cries in the Maternity Ward, the words, "I'm sorry Ms. Chapman, there's nothing else we can do."

The sensations of joy and misery overlapped, weaving together an amalgam of bittersweet chaos. At the snap of Herbert's fingers, the sounds ceased, leaving Dane exhausted and reaching for something to lean on.

"Mortality," Herbert stated. "Eventually, everyone you have ever known will come face to face with it. This is what separates now and the hereafter."

"With all due respect," Dane said, panting. "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."

"I'm here to show you the path between life and death. There is a bridge which leads to a gate and you, Mr. Dericaan, will one day be the keeper of that gate."

"You've obviously got the wrong guy," Dane said, heading toward the door. He leaned on the threshold, a leg already outside. "I can tell you, without a shadow of a doubt, I'm not your guy."

"And I can tell you, you have been wrong about so many things, including yourself."

Dane sped down the corridor and around the nurses' station, trying to get the ridiculous exchange out of his mind. Paths, bridges, gates -- none of it carried any weight of truth.

"Hello? Can anybody hear me?" asked the sweetest, yet meekest voice Dane had ever heard.

"Yes, I'll be right there," he replied, taking his thumb off the down button of the elevator.

He turned the corner to see a tall, thin girl in a brightly colored flowered bandana, wrestling with her disheveled bed sheets while her Nurses Call remote hung from the edge of the plastic safety barrier.

"Here. Allow me," Dane said comfortingly, straightening her sheets and situating her remote within an arm's length. "Better?"

"Much," she replied, still scooching into a comfortable position. "Thank you so much. You're my knignt in a shining necktie."

Dane looked down at his loosened half-Windsor knot. "Oh. I forgot it was still on. After a while, it becomes one with you."

"Well, it suits you."

"Why, thank you."

"No, no. It's me who should be doing the thanking."

Her eyes darted around the room while Dane simply stood there smiling. After a quick moment, she reached for the adjacent wheeled table and held up a cup of lime green Jello.

She cleared her throat. "May I bestow unto you this prize of gelatinous nutrition for services rendered."

"Thank you, milady," Dane replied, taking a deep bow, chuckling. "'Tis the appropriate tang I require."

"Whew, that's a relief," she said flatly, before her giggle shined through. "Lime Jello is crap."

"Fortunately for you, I work with crap nearly everyday."

"A crap handler -- be still my weakly beating heart."

She extended her hand, flashing the most gorgeous smile. "Jenna."

And he smiled back genuinely. "Dane."

"Do you have somewhere pressing to be, Dane?"

"You know what? I really don't," he said, tearing the lid of his Jello.

"Well, I believe I've got some time left on this blue marble," she said, rubbing her hands together for warmth. "Tell me a little bit about yourself, Dane. Who are you?"