Near the end...

Tim sat down next to the old man on the park bench. The pungent smell of the pipe tobacco seemed to stick around, even in the slight breeze.

"You look contemplative."

The man raised his eyebrows. "That's a big word young man. How do you know?"

"You look like my grandpa does when he's thinking about food."

The old man laughed. "I'm just enjoying your world little one. Blue sky, fresh air. Birds singing.

"My world?"

"Oh, don't you worry young Timothy. Just sit here with me. It'll all be over soon enough..." He smiled.

There was a bright flash.