He blinked.
"Huh?"
His voice came out as normal, as though he was calm. He looked around a bit, his confusion rising with each passing second. The haze on his mind did not help.
He found himself in a vast expanse, white like a sheet of paper, with absolutely nothing nothing else being there.
Only he, Jeff Bozo, standing in the middle of nowhere. And that, in the most literal sense of things.
The memories of what had happened returned to him slowly. His walk to the store, the sudden impact on the back of his head.
Then, the people attempting to help him. The sight of the bloodstained wheel, having somehow detached itself from a car.
'...I'm...where?'
Again, he looked around. There was nothing.
'...'
For a moment, he just stood there, a bit dazed. He had been on his way to the store, just to buy some necessities and in the next moment, he seemed to be in the afterlife.
Then, the realization settled. He was starting to shake. His eyes felt like they burned as tears began to flow. His knees buckled and his breath hitched in his throat.
Everything he had, was gone.
Relationships. Family. Friends. Work. Money. Certainty.
All these things, these constants in his Life, were gone. They had just disappeared, before he'd even realized it.
For a moment, he just stood there, knees shaking, tears flowing and head hanging low.
'If only i hadn't gone out today.'
Had he stayed at home, this would not have happened. He'd be safe.
Then, he noticed something. Namely the wet spots his tears had created. Dark stains, like tears on paper.
'...what?'
Slowly, in an almost hesitant motion, he bent down and touched the ground.
"...paper?"
His Hand pressed itself against the ground for a moment before standing back up.
'...this isn't nothing.'
Ground. His Hand. His body.
His mind.
It was something.
A sad smile spread on his face. And he started walking.
-
He didn't know how long, but he knew things were changing. The whiteness, with every step he took, slowly turned into color, forming a corridor alongside his step.
If he stopped, so did the appearing color. If he walked, the color continued.
Slowly, his surroundings painted themselves out, until soon or long after, not a speck of white remained.
He was in an apartment. In a hallway. Right in front of a door. Music played from the back and the clinking sound of dishes and water came from behind him.
Despite that, he did not turn around.
He simply reached out and opened the door.