What many do not understand is how cold Heaven is. In comparison to the heat of hell, I was feeling as if I had to freeze to death. I had only those strange tattered greasy rags on my body, which they reserve for sinners like me.

In front of me stood a silvery double door which was at least 3 stories tall. My general surroundings weren't much to look at either. Roman columns, floors and walls that looked like polished white marble. That is, until someone took a closer look and recognized the black lines inside the material to be the borders of clouds.

There was nothing else to do but to wrap my arms around my body and shiver.

I was ripped out of my contemplation, when someone cleared his throat beside me. It was a middle-aged man dressed in a mouse gray suite. He was noticeable void of any extreme colors. His shirt appeared white but was almost imperceptible light gray. His hair was a dark gray shade, as were his eyes. He didn't look dead, but I couldn't tell if his skin had a proper skin color or if my eyes played a trick on me.

"You are Mr. Sinner?" he asked and did not hide how he took measure of me. "Yes. Yes, that is me. I think. Well, there is no one else. So, it must be me, Mr?" I stuttered with lips that felt like they were turning blue.

"Well, I'm the Devil's Advocate. I know it sounds quite archaic. In reality, I'm on no one's side." was his answer. I reached out to meet his hand in a handshake, I expected to feel his body warmth, but it was perfectly neutral, even in contrast to the cold surroundings. Somehow, that was exactly how I thought it would be.

Escaping my thoughts, I nodded and added to my question: "Mr. Devil's Advocate, then. You are not on anyone's side? I thought you might be my defender?" The pursing of his lips and short confused gaze told me he hadn't thought about it in that light, then replied: "Yes. That is true. But Heavenly Courts do not work the same as on the material planes."

My desperate mood wasn't bettered by this information at all. He released a gray manila folder from the clasp of his upper arm against his torso and stared at it for a second. Mr. Devil's Advocate pointed at the space beside where I was sitting: "May I?". I nodded, and he sat down after tugging on each of his trouser legs, revealing gray socks in gray shoes.

He held the manila folder in front of him as if meditating about its content, then visibly came to a conclusion, which he commented with a short nod. I used this short time to examine the folder. There was a white square stapled to the right upper corner. Beneath it was a wide dark gray line under a field that looked like there should be something written on it. Opening the folder, he revealed that it was as empty as the white frame and the line, holding nothing but a blank white paper. I was only able to look at it and him confused.

"You see, the Problem is. Well." he swallowed: "You don't exist any longer. Someone made a Mistake. It does not happen often but." His face ended the sentence with a facial expression like a cashier handing you back a declined credit card.

"I don't exist?" I heard myself ask: "Then why am I in Hell?"

Mr. Devil's Advocate drew his lips upward into a thin but not humorous facsimile of a smile and explained: "Well, there are clear rules how to enter Heaven. Everything else defaults to Hell. I fear."

My Head slumped in defeat as the Implications became apparent: "That also means I won't ever get out. Because no one knows when my Torture needs to end." He nodded, and I asked: "Why is there even a Hell and Heaven?" The Man in the Grey Suit wasn't prepared to enter a meaningful theological discussion but replied without hesitation: "Because for most of your life you thought it would be like this. Even if just unconscious. This is how it was agreed to be long ago."

I knew it made sense, I knew that he was right. There was nothing but accepting my demise. I raised from the Bench I found myself sitting on. Turned to Mr. Devil's Advocate and sighed: "Well, if I brought myself into this. I'm sorry to have bothered anyone. Where do I have to go?" There was a moment of silence as he locked his gaze with my sad, defeated eyes. He padded his thighs once as if to remove dust or dirt from the fabric, and stood up: "Well, you have to go back. Obviously. No sense In letting you wait. Or your mother." "My M?" is everything I could stammer before there was suddenly nothing.

And then there was everything.

In a cold hall of hard clouds, a gray man shaped himself back to what it truly was. A caring smile filled what was recognizable as a face. In the distance of a gray void, a small voice sounded. It cried because that was all that it could do. The entity that was watching saw how expectation and love felt between the clouds. And even though the small person he was watching could not yet understand the words, the entity knew what it was. An exhausted and hurting mother, crying out of pain and happiness. Holding her newborn child for the first time. The warm embrace of a young family.

Then there were many like it and there was conversation.

"I can't decide if it was cruel or caring.", "It was cruel to make him suffer.", "It was Just. There must be Judgment.", "But we are not Judges, we are companions." The entity that spoke to what I was before said to himself: "We are but the ferryman." it smiled in introversion, then added: "We are taking them where they think they are going to, when they are never going anywhere again."