Florence Baker was dead. Or at least, he should have been. It wasn’t unheard of to survive a suicide attempt, but the problem was he hadn’t survived. He wasn’t in a hospital, which is certainly where he would be if he wasn’t dead. He didn’t think he was in heaven or hell either. There wasn’t anyone else around, and he didn’t feel particularly good or bad. He was just there.
He wasn’t even sure he was in a real place. Not that he could be somewhere that didn’t exist, but there was definitely something about the place that should have made his head spin but somehow didn’t. He