I looked around and saw furniture, toiletries, paintings, and even pieces of plaster, brick, and wood that had once been my house. I didn’t have a ground to stand on, but I didn’t fall. I looked beyond the detritus of my home and saw nothing but an empty, purple glow. The glow was palpable and audible in a way, as if the strange light was also a high, distant whistle and a fog so thick it took effort to move through.
I flailed about (as best I could) to touch the objects around me, but they were all out of reach. I kicked my legs about, hoping to find solid ground, but to no avail. After that car crash, I discovered, I couldn’t come home. I tried to shout to help, but all I heard was that whistle echoing my words. I tried to move, but I had nothing the push off of. So, there I was, alone in the purple.