It's as though I-I were walking down a long corridor that once was mirrored. And fragments of that mirror still hang there. And when I come to the end of the corridor, there's nothing but darkness. And I know that when I walk into the darkness, that I'll die. I've never come to the end. I've always come back before then, except once.
Yesterday? [She nods agreement.] And you didn't know. You didn't know what happened till you found yourself in the...you didn't know where you were. But the small scenes, the fragments of the mirror, do you remember those?
Vaguely.
What do you remember?
There's a room and I sit there alone, always alone.
What else?
A grave.
Where?
I don't know. It's an open grave, and I, I stand by the gravestone looking down into it. It's my grave.
But how do you know?
I know.
Is there a name on the gravestone?
No. It's new and clean and waiting.
