es met mine。 They were aware； I was the last thing he saw as we tilted him off the edge of the world。 Then he fell against the seatback； the cap ing askew on his head a little； smoke … a sort of charry mist … drifting out from beneath it。 But on the whole； you know； it was quick。 I doubt if it was painless； the way the chair's supporters always claim （it's not an idea even the most rabid of them ever seems to want to investigate personally）； but it was quick。 The hands were limp again； the formerly bluish…white moons at the base of the fingernails now a deep eggplant hue； a tendril of smoke rising off cheeks still wet with salt water from the sponge 。。。 and his tears。
John Coffey's last tears。
11。
I was all right until I got home。 It was dawn by then； and birds singing。 I parked my flivver； I got out； I walked up the back steps； and then the second greatest grief I have ever known washed over me。 It was thinking of how he'd been afraid of the dark that did it。 I remembered the first time we'd met； how he'd asked if we left a light on at night； and my legs gave out on me。 I sat on my steps and hung my head over my knees and cried。 It didn't feel like that weeping was just for John ； either； but for all of us。
Janice came out and sat down beside me。 She put an arm over my shoulders。
〃You didn't hurt him any more than you could help； did you？〃
I shook my head no。
〃And he wanted to go。〃
I nodded。
〃e in the house；〃 she