I looked down at the pavement, thirty storeys below.
The people looked so small and insignificant. I picked one random figure out, and wondered if my existence had any more worth than theirs.
I saw not the details, but the weight of my life flash before my eyes – all its disappointments, frustrations, disillusionments.
Would it be easy or difficult, to step forward and end it all?
But there was no time left for rumination.
It was time to be brave.
I held my hand out to the bedraggled figure weeping on the ledge beside me.
“Don’t do it,” I said.
It’s definitely fun, being able to project my consciousness and wander about in disembodied form. Though I have to be very careful where I leave my empty body – there have been some close scrapes!
I’ve rescued lots of earthquake survivors in my time, and – quite unethically – made millions by spying on secret business deals.
And now I’m in a particularly unique position!
You see – I know there’s life on other planets. I’ve visited several of them, observed alien societies in detail.
But who can I tell? And how can I prove it?
They’d think I was – out of my mind!
He has died and she is sad.
Neither of them believed in an afterlife.
But sometimes, she speaks to him out loud, just in case he is there, listening.
She asks him, if he still has some awareness, some existence, to give her a sign.
If you’re here, turn that light on.
Write down something that only we would know.
Convince me that we were wrong, that there is something after death.
There is never any sign, any reply.
His ghost sits, considering what he might write, though knowing he never will.
Best to let her heal and move on.