Snap
Tammy didn’t know what was happening. She was asleep. So painless. So wonderfully peaceful. She couldn’t open her eyes. She couldn’t speak. Why were those people hanging around? Why couldn’t she talk to them? She didn’t panic. She thought she smiled, but no-one would smile back at her. She floated out of and over her body, watched it sleeping. She even saw people with tears in their eyes. Why? And she couldn’t talk to anyone! She felt a lovely life, floating around in the corners of her room, able to go outside if she wanted to, visit other people in this building. She smiled at others and some smiled back. Only who were asleep. Like her. What was life? Was she still alive? Was she just asleep? She knew: yes, she knew – her body was asleep. She had time; she had to explore. She floated down the hallway, looking at people in that hallway, wondering why they looked so busy, or seemed very upset, or, occasionally, just laughed. Wonderful people! Or maybe not so