“Well, not yet,” I agreed. “But, we will, won’t we?” “Yes, I hope so. But suppose we didn’t. Even so, what we have and who we are doesn�...�t simply end.” “So, you believe in an afterlife?” “In some form, yes,” she replied. “But, at the funeral, you said the ex hadn’t thought beyond his own existence.” “That was him,” she said. “Not me.” “See, the problem is there are all those rules and rituals. I’m not sure what effect that will have on us.” She took my face in her soft hands and looked into my. Making beds, helping them to the toilet andgreeting visitors, then lunches and assisting those who wanted to go backto bed for a nap, and so on. Hard work, but I found it enjoyable.It was during this period that I bumped into Marie Colville. She was thedaughter -or so I thought- of the man whose body I now inhabit, EdwardColville. Edward had suffered a severe stroke some years back, and wasnow in the last stages of Alzheimer's disease, unable to do anything. AndI mean anything. He had been with. More

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