The AfterLife [ON HOLD]

PROLOGUE

SALLY

Apparently, life is merely a bubble with repeated time.

At least, that’s what he told me.

I can’t believe he keeps going off about these stupid life quotes, constantly. I mean, how can you possibly be sure that someone understands you completely when you tell them something once, right?

Right??

No.

Of course, with someone as stubborn as him, you can be 100% sure you’re never gonna hear the end of a lecture he has planned for your ears. And trust me, he's the kind of person who has a very determined mindset where everything he decides is locked in focus until he gets it done. Could be why he's been so successful over the years.

Anyway, this guy, is amazing. He has the skill, the talent, the everything one would want to get through life, because, as he once told me, You can only have so much to get yourself by. Sometimes I wonder whether he’s actually telling me, or he’s trying to convince himself. But if that was the case, then it obviously worked. I can’t help but imagine how life would’ve been if it were in another scenario where everything is what he calls normal, but our kind of normal isn’t necessarily, well, I don’t even know. He says everyone has their own normal. Every individual, but there’s another type of normal where a large group of individuals called society, I think, who live in this bubble, tend to follow. I once asked him why there are two kinds or normals; he told me that one’s for show, and the other one represents an individuals true self. It’s funny, really, how grasping these stories are, especially when he tells them to me.

I like it when he tells me these stories, these stories of life, and based on how I’m able to grasp them so easily along with the concepts and equations he teaches me about these so called individuals, I can already tell I'm going to love this new experience of life and have my own views and opinions about it one day, especially when I go there for the first time.

But being the kind of person he is, he obviously won’t let me.

This is the problem with him. He always says exciting things about this place and when I ask him when I’m going, he tells me straight up I’m not going at all. I mean, it’s about time I left here, to be honest. There’s no way in hell I can stay here for another god-knows-how-long and still be OK with it as I continue living my life. Living my life how, exactly? Cooped up in a 4-sided container with windows to look out of? Nope. No-sir-ree. I can’t.

I can’t do that.

And he full-well knows it.

The waft of deliciously-scented air hit me like a brick to the face when I made my way down the stairs. He's always like this. Making something amazing for dinner whenever he—

Shit.

No way.

Realizing what must have gone down, I practically flew down the stairs in an attempt to not only hear the big and possibly pleasant news, but at the same time to try and feel how he feels when he’s busy launching himself in all sorts of places.

The maniac.

After rubbing my upper arm where I felt like my shoulder got dislocated after I landed in what seemed to me like a heap of bones in the ground, I got up and groaned at the pain, making my way into the kitchen.

As I expected, I found him there, just as he was putting two lovely filled-up bowls on a tray.

I sat on a chair in the island.