“So… you’ve been dead long?”

We twiddled our thumbs. Staring blatantly at the opaque glaze that had begun to creep over our wrinkled digits even as the rapid swirling motions sought to hold the last bit of flush that was all that truly remained of our humanity, we blanched. Horrified yet fascinated by their seemingly ghostly appearance, we delved deeper into this polite reverie to pass the time. Yet, despite all concepts of such a concrete measurement of moments passing, time lost, memories found, it all depends on how you’d look at it really. Some of us been here for years, months, days, hours, minutes, before we were shuffled quietly in the backroom to do god knows what god knows where, never to return again.

But just for conversation’s sake…

“Nah. Got myself knocked off just this morning. You?”

I articulated. Strange word that, articulated, would have laughed myself stiff if I caught myself using it in real life, a real shocker, but then again, I don’t suppose you’d call this ‘real life’…would you?

I guess it was a decent enough place given the trying circumstances. High ceilings, good lighting, real wood furniture too- just like home used to have- none of that fake imitation stuff. In fact, save for the fact it was all currently suspended dangerously over nothing, it was a familiar enough setting that set most of us at ease.

And I mean just that, none of that ‘oh god we’re in the middle of a desert’ sort of nothing or a ‘this place is nothing compared to what they have uptown’ sort of nothing but a good darn old fashioned unending gaping pit of darkness sort of nothing. Sure, it was scary once you thought of what lay beyond that nothing could be something, but really was nothing.

It’s a confusing concept needing a bit of clarification.

In fact, I asked the nice young lady in the white suit a while back if there was actually something beyond that nothing and if there was something would she be obligated to tell what that something was or was it a kind of ‘restricted access, only authorized personal allowed, all trespassers will be shot’ kind of something or perhaps even a ‘you’ll know it when you grow up’ sort of deal?

But she just smiled, and boy could she smile with those pretty little marker-red lips of hers, and told me in a gentle, consoling sort of voice.

“You’ll have your turn soon hon, so just sit tight and we’ll get right back to ya, mkay?”

As if not knowing wasn’t enough, she had to go being all nice about it.

And so, in our boredom, we’d taken turns chucking off odd bits of paper, furniture, and the occasional shoe down into the lurking depths of darkness just to see if it’d bounce back or maybe hit something during their descent. But, even so, it was just fascinating to watch as it tumbled dangerously through the air and disappeared leaving no trace of having existed at all. The ladies back in the corner smiled sportingly as they quietly ushered vagrant bits of clothing and jewelry still left on their…bodies. (Or would it be more fitting to say corpses?) The men tutted in disdain and took to striking heroic stances of disapproval at our childish pastime.

Much to their delight, it soon got old after Arthur, or whatever his name was, got all giddy like and too fell down to join our assorted collection of rather questionable articles of equally questionable origins, cause darn it, some of this people found the oddest of things in the oddest of orifices.

For instance, Greg, bless his heart, just spotted a nickel from my ear. Been missing my hearing for twenty-five odd years now, but now it just seem all so clear. And it wasn’t one of those grimy old things they’d give out at the downtown mini-mart cashier either, it was brand spanking new, having a strange sort of glint to it too, like all shiny and the like.

And, what more, he’d let me have it.

Yet, despite our fascination with the nothing, we’d taken up residence with some of the older folk around us and joined the ranks of the many disheveled souls perching on their separate stools, glaring steadily at our fading hands, trying to strike up a polite honest conversation with several of the folk who shared the same fate and needed a feel for normalcy, or what was left of it at this stage. The introductions were painless, the conversations less so as we’d all shared one common factor, which was, in its essence, a means of bonding in itself.

“Ah. Me. Myself. Car crash did the trick. Didn’t see the bastard coming, wasn’t much a drinker too, couldn’t hold his liquor to save his life, or mine. But damn it, I guess it didn’t matter. He was one of those younglings on a joyride. High on life, bloody little bugger, hope that limp won’t go away for a while yet…you know anything about what did you in?”

We knew the dates. We knew the times. We knew who’d done it.

“It was the husband. Crazy little bugger, love him still despite it. Not that he deserves it. Been going on the fritz the last few days, suspected he’d be snapping sometime soon, didn’t expect he’d go off the deep end though. Jolly, it’d be crazy to expect that bumbling old fool to come around in the morning with a knife in hand trying to lay one on me. Didn’t manage it though. M’heart went right and proper and gave out just then. But the idiot couldn’t tell, kept stabbing and stabbing till he…”

It was sort of like Cluedo, express version.

“You alright there then? Lookin’ a bit on the pale side.”

Of course, it had a wider range of colored markers, and a large variation of the choicest weapons available. Just to add a dash of color to our otherwise dull existence.

“Nah. Right as rain. Just a spell. Suspect he’s just gone about with the burial. In a ditch! By golly. A marriage for thirty years and he goes buryin’ me in a ditch, the nerve! Even after all these years of commitment and washing those darn socks of his, sweat stains my foot, he went trekking in them I’m sure, just to spite me, and I don’t even get a grave. After all his shit, all I get is a ditch. Police gonna be on him in a few days, just you’d wait! Of course they’d let him off, the poor thing knows good well how to pull a fast one, had me suckered for the first ten years he did! By god, but that smile, it just did me in. Broke many hearts it did before I got in on it. Broke mine too with that darn hussy of his, didn’t think I’d notice did he… darn the blonde highlights, guess he always did like them blonde”

We’d sat there, trying to look peaceably settled as we tried to comprehend just where our life went, and where our death was going. The ranting was unconditional, if not widely expected and entertained with mild curiosity by the silent public.

In fact, we’d taken turns as we sat in our makeshift circle of drooping boxes and plastic covered sofas, to dive into our personal exposition of our life’s endeavors.

The others, who had been there longer than most, stared at the non-descript walls with glazed vigor, daring the walls to close in, blaming the faceless staff with their ever constant proficiency for their slow demise.

They had begun to fade into the niceties, blending into endless pastel walls.

The desks, right prim and proper, the tables laced with doilies, the cups of green tea to settle the nerves, the paintings; everything in the room pervaded a serene silence we were all too familiar with and scared of.

To put it simply, we were terrified of losing ourselves. We clung to any sense of normalcy left, waiting, always waiting.

Yet it had begun to dawn on us that we didn’t quite know what we were waiting for, or what we’d ever hoped to achieve with our newfound purpose.

Instruction, stories, the knowing of what had happened to us, and perhaps even the mourning which was to take place. As much as it horrified us, it was a comfort to know that doubt wasn’t something that ended with life itself.

It made much of death too.

I guess we all felt cheated in a way. Whatever happened to godly providence? Fated romance? Scenic sunsets whispering of a greater purpose?

When it all came down to it, I guess this was how it all started.

With hope. With doubt.

With a lack of anything better to do.