“Is he breathing?”
“His lips seem blue!”
“How did he die, Poison or accident?”
The voices are playing in my head. I am lying in what seems like a pool of blood and the water puddle created by the afternoon rain. It feels wet and sticky. Can dead bodies feel anything? Am I really dead? Or have I attained a higher level of consciousness where I can separate my body from my being and view everything as a third person?
“Questions … you always have questions.” you said. “Find out yourself if I can or cannot live without you.” you said.
Here I am dead. And you, where are you?