Moments ago, she was somewhere else, though, she couldn’t remember where. Memories were such intangible things, here. Like tattered fragments from a waking dream, drifting somberly, ever out of reach. She had woken, if one was to say she had woke, with a heart filled with an alien calmness. A sense of hazed peace where once, long ago, her body had stood. Understanding, too, had always been waiting for her here, and sought very dearly to catch her up.
She was dead. And this, was a waiting room.
