It didn’t feel right. She wasn’t greeted by any familiar cliché; no bright lights, shining gates, no sudden replay of her life thus far, not even omnipresent blackness. Instead, death brought her to a moderately lit, small room, not even six paces across. It was oddly reminiscent of a solitary confinement cell, now that she’d thought it over a bit. Only she wasn’t alone at all—Alice sat on a flat surface, a bench or a bed, Yumi couldn’t really tell, knees hugged against her chest. Though they had everything to say, neither expected the other to speak. Time had lost all meaning. Yumi took her seat in the corner, amusedly taking account of which of her thoughts on the afterlife had proved incorrect.
“I suppose building cells like this could help to manage the overcrowding that would happen in the beyond,” she chuckled to herself. “But then again, if this realm is infinite, why would it matter? Not even seeing the afterlife alle