I take another drink, this time being extra careful not to get any milk on my lip. I can see a bit of disappointment in your face at your lost opportunity. Although you hide it well the sexual tension can be felt in the air. "Do you live around here?" you ask. "Why, what are you thinking?" I ask laughing. Again you take on what seems to be your natural color this evening; red. "Oh not anything like that. I was just wondering, I have never seen you before, but you seem familiar," you say. "I get that a lot; I'm an author." That is when the recognition floods your face. "Lucien?” "Yes," I reply with a smile. "You have heard of me." "Yeah, I have heard a few of your poems. You are amazing," you reply. "Thanks, a lot of people say that, but I just write down what feels right. But I am boring; I want to know about you?" I ask. We talk for over an hour. "I should probably head back to my hotel," I say getting up. Still swinging from a wonderful conversation with a guy who. Sabby was learning that time has no meaning in the state of death; what seemed just a moment ago could be years passing in the state of living. She also learned that not all those that pass from the living world ever experience the form in which she now found herself; non-corporeal substance. Most pass into that state of nothingness, where nothing exists yet there is everything. Where nothing happens yet everything happens. Where those that had gone before waited yet nobody was there. When standing behind Rob, in the mirror she saw her image yet she saw nothing tangible. Sabby felt strangely smug, in her life she considered herself a dumbo, now, just how didn’t matter, she knew all that she needed, as she needed. Just like that... her finger and thumb snapped but no sound was made; yes, there were circumstances that she had to get used to. This room looked squalid, dark, tiny, just a bed, a night table and very little else apart from an incredible amount of what appeared to be dirty.
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