This time he knew he was dead. The cool, damp quiet felt different, comforting and closed in. In the distance, he heard water dripping, dripping. It was the most beautiful sound, like music, the endless slow song of droplets hitting a body of blessed wetness. He lay on his back, that much he was sure of, hands stretched out at his sides. The cloth beneath his fingertips felt rough, but something had give beneath that. He would have stayed there forever if the endless dripping ...