It's been a year since he's gone. I hope he's in heaven watching me when I pray for him. He'd love to hear about the way I've been doing. When I ask him to make a wish, he's a hell of a person."
"He's my friend and my part-time patient," said Marshall. "Whatever he's doing is good for him. But he's not God. He's not the Lord, unless he's raised up, and he's raised up, in a very special way, for me. I've been moving to the west and I've been living in a cell, in this rickety old house that I've bought for him, with a very beautiful view of the lake.
"I've been thinking about him for some time. I've wanted to have him with me for some time. I've always felt that he was my friend and I'm his only witness. I'm glad he's gone out of my life and has gone somewhere he'll never be found again. But I still have a feeling that I have missed him terribly."
He turned away from the lamp in the window and looked about him.
"He's not that bad," he said. "He makes up his own plan and he's very good at it."
He paused and then quietly closed the door.