I watched from the side as the doctors pulled my body from the wreckage and loaded it into the ambulance. I didn't know what was happening—maybe this was a dream. My legs moved on their own, carrying me back home. It wasn't far.
I walked up to the door, hesitated, then stepped through it. My hand had passed right through the handle.
Maybe I really was a ghost.
Inside, I saw Nana lying peacefully by the couch. My heart clenched. What if I called her name and she didn't hear me? What if she couldn't see me?
I took a deep breath and whispered, "Nana?"
To my surprise, her ears perked. She jumped up and began running in circles around me, her tail wagging furiously.
I smiled—actually smiled.
"I'm sorry, girl. I couldn't get you your treats today... Something weird happened to me. But I promise, when this is all over, I'll get you the best toys and the best treats you've ever had. Okay?"
Nana barked in reply. But this time… I felt something. It wasn't just a sound. I could feel what she meant, as if her bark was telling me, Don't worry. I'm always with you.
I knelt down, rubbing her head gently. "Thank you," I whispered.
Then I made my way upstairs.
I walked into my bedroom and saw my wife fast asleep. For a moment, I just stared at her. I missed this kind of silence—the kind that wasn't filled with anger or coldness. I slowly lay down next to her and closed my eyes. I don't know why. I just wanted to feel like I belonged somewhere again. Even if it was only in death.
But then… I heard something.
A voice. Quiet. Shaky. Praying.
I opened my eyes slightly, just enough to see who it was.
The truck driver. The old man. He was sitting by my hospital bed, hands clenched in prayer. My body lay there—bloody, broken, breathing through machines.
I wanted to speak. To thank him. But something was in my mouth. I couldn't move. I couldn't even lift my hand to reach out.
Then my eyes shut again—on their own.
And just like that, I was outside the operating room, watching surgeons huddle around my body. My chest tightened with panic. I backed away from the door, and that's when I saw them—my wife and son.
They were walking down the hallway.
I wanted to run to them, but then I noticed something was… off.
They weren't crying.
They were smiling.
Smiling.
I reached for my wife. My arms passed right through her. Like I wasn't even there.
They kept walking—calm, almost cheerful. And then, without warning, the image of them shifted and disappeared.
Maybe this really was a dream. Or maybe… maybe that wasn't my body anymore.
I walked out of the hospital. The sunlight stung my eyes. Morning already?
Had I been asleep that long?
I walked the street, trying to speak with people. "Hello." "Hi." "Can anyone hear me?"
Nothing.
Again. "Good morning."
Then, a voice behind me answered.
"Good morning."
I turned. An old man with snow-white hair and a thick beard stood behind me.
"You… you can hear me?" I asked, stunned.
He smiled, just as surprised. "I was about to ask you the same thing."
I blinked in disbelief. "Wait—you can hear me?"
"Yes," he chuckled softly. "And I've waited years to say that."
My knees gave out, and I sat on the bench behind me. My legs were trembling.
"You have no idea," the old man continued, "how long it's been since someone could hear my voice."
I didn't know what to say. I finally mumbled, "Where… where are we? Why can you hear me when no one else can?"
"I don't know exactly," he said, sitting beside me. "But if I had to guess… you're not dead. Not fully, anyway. You're somewhere in between. On the verge. This place—it's where the dying remember their lives. Where they realize what it all meant."
"…Are you dead?" I asked.
He smiled again, but this time with sadness. "Not yet. But I will be. The doctors say I'll never wake up."
I reached out, touched his arm. I could feel him. Solid. Real.
His eyes welled with tears as he gripped my hand. "After all these years... I finally get to talk to someone."
I stayed silent. I didn't know how to respond.
He looked away. "You know… I lived my life completely alone. No family. No one to talk to. I spent so long wondering what it would feel like to be seen again."
I thought of my wife. My son. I always had someone—but somehow I made them feel like I wasn't there.
"I want to show you something," the old man said suddenly.
I followed him down the street to a small barbershop. For a second, I thought he wanted a haircut. I almost laughed. "You want a trim?" I joked. "I'm not bad with clippers."
But he just pointed to the mirror.
"Look," he said. "Proof."
I turned.
My heart sank.
There was no reflection.
Just the empty shop behind me.
I wasn't there.
"I'm really dead…" I whispered.
The old man placed a hand on my shoulder. "Not yet. But close."
I stood there, staring at the nothingness in the mirror. I thought about everything I never did. The places I never went. The dreams I buried under routine.
"I always wanted to go to the beach," I murmured. "But I never had the time. Work was all I thought about."
The old man looked at me gently. "Then maybe now's the time to remember who you were… and choose who you want to become."