Waking up was the last thing I expected to do after I died. I could still feel where the knife pierced my torso. I ran my fingers across my body, and there was nothing. I expected a few things, pain, blood, a knife, but no. There was nothing but a fully untouched silk shirt.

I took a step, but there was nothing to catch my feet. I stumbled forward, just barely able to catch myself and shift my weight back. I turned around to see what step I had missed, but all I saw was a glass coffin. The outside was almost perfectly clear, but the inside was padded with a worn velvet. The outline of where my body rested was clear, an impression where I must’ve been for a long time.

I turn to the rest of the room. My vision had been drained of color completely, in a room so painfully unfamiliar to me. Was this the after life?