You died and woke up trapped on the other side, the wrong side. On one side of the window, your life plays out without you. Your seat at the kitchen table goes unused. Your bedroom is a guest room. Your best friend has sleep overs with someone else. On your side of the window is eternity, dark and empty. So, you stay by the window where you can glimpse sunlight and loved ones.

Do they really not  remember you? When grandpa died, his entire existence wasn’t erased. Is this hell?

At some point, it hurts too much to keep watching. You turn away, facing eternity. You wonder what will happen if you walk into it. Are there motion activated lights maybe?

The longer you stare into the darkness, the more you start to imagine things. First, you imagine demons and monsters, their claws reaching for you. Then you become numb to the fear. You start imagining that you’re in a comma and you’re making all of this up. You try to force yourself awake, try to feel the scratchy hospital sheets against your skin. You imagine that you took too many pills. You’d been depressed, right? Isn’t that the term for someone who comes home from school and cries over their homework? Aren’t there some mean girls who bully you? Isn’t middle school hard?

No. You were mostly happy. So what happened? You try to think back to your last memory before waking up here. But you can’t be sure. The harder you try to remember your life, the less you recall. You turn back to the window, but it’s frozen over. You rub your hand against the glass, but it’s impossible to see through. You search for a latch, but there isn’t one. Can you feel pain? You smash your hand into the glass, and it shatters. The window, the broken glass, the light all disappear, and nothingness closes in around you.

Fiction

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