His name is doctor Paul

"Hi, doctor". The doctor, his name is Paul, don’t want to answer me. I understand him. Honestly, if I was him, I also didn’t answer me. Or him. I don’t know, ha-ha-ha. We sit on the soft and purely white sofa in his cabinet at the heaven. My doctor Paul has gray angel wings and his face looks enlightened. He’s my justice. We are alone in paradise. In the purely white and creepy black paradise. It has two main colors and no more. In the emptiness of paradise the rustle of pages sweeps by. It was Paul who opened his notes. "So… why are you here?" The doctor flipping through the pages. He has gray glasses. "Because I died". "Oh… you think so? Then how you died?" Doctor looks calmly. And brightly. And looks like angel. I don’t know. And don’t want to know.