Hey there, loyal readers of Fanfiction. I haven't posted anything in a while. -head/desk- My bad. Well, this thing is kinda new. I haven't written outside of Matt's view in a while so . . . have mercy. This story was inspired by the book The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albon. I feel a little guilty using his idea; but as you all know, I'm terribly uncreative. I just wanted to give credit the the guy. He's an amazing writer. I've read a few of his books and I loved them all. I'm sure you guys will too - If you decide to buy them.

There will be more chapters to this. Sorry, this one is super short. I just can't find it in my to make it longer.
Enjoy.

C L A R I T Y :
Clearness; brightness; splendor.

If through our confusion and all our faults,
We could only see the lighter side,
Then we'd laugh ourselves silly,
And all our worries fall aside.
-- Marc Mosko, 1996

Today Mail Jeevas is dying.

Dying on a cold unfamiliar concrete ground; fighting pangs of pain through a thin striped shirt.

There's noise all around him and it's deafening. He bears it patiently – he doesn't see any point in getting angry now.

He briefly comments to himself of how dying isn't so bad. Infact, he prefers it over the routine haze that's masked over his life.

He figures that as a dying man he should be reminiscing. Overrun with feelings of nostalgia and fond memories, savoring his last thoughts and feelings.

But really – what does the average nineteen year old think of while dying anyways?

Mail doesn't know; nor does he consider himself to be an "average nineteen year old". So he lets his mind wander.

He thinks about the small things first.

Of the lit cigarette still clamped greedily between his lips.

Of the Super Mario game he left unfinished in the backseat of his car.

Of the disgusting smudges of what he assumes to be – his own blood blotted across his goggles.

Of the apathetic murmurings of Japanese he's too tired to translate into English.

Of the constant replay of Mello's plan ringing clear through his head.

Mail allows himself to turn his lips downward into a frown – even if the simple action sends jolts of pain all throughout his body.

Mello.

He inwardly curses.

(He can't see straight anymore.)

It's strange, Mail had always had a way with words, yet the last thing that runs through his head is Fuck.

To be continued . . .

I know you want to know who the five people Matt meets in Heaven are. ;) But you'll have to review to find out.

So the only sensible thing would be to review, right? Knowledge is power!

Love,
Jennifer.