The light is bright as it shines in her face. She stretches and marvels at how wonderful she feels. She can’t recall ever feeling so good before in her life. It’s as if she’s looking at the world through new eyes. The bed is soft underneath her, perhaps the greatest bed she’s ever slept in. She smells bacon cooking, a smell she’s loved since she was a child. Getting out of the bed her body moves with a grace she’s never had before. She walks down the stairs, or maybe the correct term would be floats, and turns to the kitchen. Clay is sitting at the counter, and though Spencer hasn’t seen him in years, it’s as if no time ever passed between his death and the car crash that put her here.

“Hey, Spence. You’re just in time. I made your favorite. Pancakes, bacon, and eggs, and a tall glass of ice cold water. Just how Mom used to make it when we were kids.”

Spencer takes the seat next to Clay, cutting her pancakes with a fork and lifting it to her mouth. It’s nothing like she’s ever tasted before, the syrup melting in her mouth, the pancakes soft enough to go down smoothly.

“Clay, am I in heaven?”

Her brother sighs deeply, takes a sip of orange juice and looks Spencer in the eyes. “I can’t answer that for you.” Spencer allows a moment of silence to pass between them until she asks the question that has been on her mind since her brother’s death. “Did it hurt? When you died?”

He stares back at her. “Did it hurt for you?”

Spencer takes a deep breath, the crash replaying itself over and over again in her mind. “I don’t remember it much. It happened so fast. I guess it hurt, but then it was like the pain was over. And now I feel more alive than ever.”

Clay smiled at his little sister, remarking on how much she’s grown since he last saw her. He tells her how her face is more defined and that he’s sorry he’s missed so much in her life. They sit at the little table in silence.

She hears the sounds of people talking around her, her eyelids heavy. Someone is clutching tightly to her hand, softly crying. Her body is in so much pain that she’s afraid to move. But the only thought going through her mind is the way the blood was flowing down Spencer’s face, her head slammed against the window shield. She cries out in pain but no sound comes out. Her eyes slowly open. The first thing she expects to see is Spencer, but instead it’s Kyla who is holding her hand. She whispers her name, her lips chapped, throat sore. “Where’s Spencer?”