I slowly pushed myself up to a sitting position, keeping my eyes glued to the black form in the corner.
Emma was sound asleep at the foot of the bed…nestled in ‘her’ Drake tee shirt… (it’s too long a story to share right now)…so I nudged her a little so she would wake up. Nothing.
“Emma.” I whispered and tapped her lightly on her head. “Wake Up.”
But she didn’t wake up. She didn’t even move. She was, as they say, ‘dead to the world’.
And then it quietly occurred to me that I wasn’t scared…not at all. I even smiled a little…what the hell is going on?
I was, in fact, feeling a deep sense of calm. Remember that ‘Zen’ feeling I mentioned earlier? Like that. Then. It hit me.
“Holy Shit! I cried out loud. “I’m fucking dead!”
I hadn’t even felt sick! No one had even hinted that I was dying!
Of course sometimes…not often…not very often…I don’t always pay attention to every, single solitary word that people are saying to me…but still…
“I cant believe this.” I screamed.
“Dead at 24! I had so many things left to do. I’m pretty sure of that!”
“Bucket List! My bucket list! Crap. I haven’t even made a bucket list…”
I tapped Emma a wee bit harder on her head.
“Emma! We’re dead! We’re both dead! Can you believe that?”
“I’m not dead.” said Emma in… NOT MY VOICE…
Things were starting to ratchet up a bit now…as my heart started to pound furiously…
Do dead hearts pound? I don’t know…I DON’T KNOW!!!!!