When my father was dying he stood on the ledge of the hospital window and said, ―I don‘t know what to do. Should I jump?‖
―Jump, and I‘ll catch you,‖ I said.
He jumped.
We ran.
He didn‘t know what city he was in and neither did I. I had never been there before. It was night.
―Run!‖ he said.
We ran through the deserted streets, ran and ran, until we came out in the countryside.
―It‘s beautiful, ― my father gasped. ―So quiet.‖
We ran fleeing.
Then he leapt into the air. ―You stay behind and tell them,‖ he said. ―Ezekiel!‖ he cried.
―I saw Ezekiel!‖