Josh disappeared for a moment and came back holding a small lunch box.
"By the way," he said, setting it down on Jasper's desk, "I brought lunch, cuz you never get yourself any."
Jasper blinked, then looked up. "You're not wrong."
Josh slid the box closer. "Eat."
Jasper hesitated, then gave a small smile. "Thanks, man. I really appreciate it."
"Don't mention it."
Jasper opened the box and stared at the food like it might vanish if he looked away too long. He picked up his utensils and started chowing, slower than he expected—his body clearly more exhausted than he'd realized.
Josh leaned against the desk, arms crossed, studying him.
"…Man," he said after a moment, "you look like a frickin' zombie."
Jasper let out a tired laugh. "Yeah, well. I'll get all the rest I need once I'm done with the report."
Josh raised an eyebrow. "You keep telling yourself that."
"I mean it," Jasper said, though even he didn't sound fully convinced.
Josh sighed. "Just—take it easy on yourself, alright?"
"I'll try."
Lunch passed quietly after that. Jasper finished the last bite, closed the container, and carefully set it aside.
"Seriously," he said, "thanks again."
Josh waved it off. "Anytime."
With a few minutes still left on the break, Jasper leaned back in his chair. Just for a moment, he told himself. Just to rest his eyes.
His eyelids closed.
Darkness took him instantly.
"Wake up, bro."
Jasper jolted, nearly tipping his chair.
"Huh—what?"
Josh stood over him, tapping the desk. "Lunch break's over."
Jasper groaned. "Damn it… that nap only felt like a minute."
"Because it basically was."
Jasper rubbed his face with both hands, trying to chase away the fog clinging to his thoughts. His body protested as he straightened, joints stiff, head still heavy.
Back to work.
He turned to his screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Friday, he reminded himself.
And the day marched on.
Several hours passed before Jasper finally looked up from his screen.
"…5 p.m. already?" he muttered. "Today went by pretty quick."
Josh leaned back in his chair and stretched, arms raised over his head. "Quick for you, maybe. I'm done for the day."
He grabbed his bag and stood. "I'm heading home. You should do the same—get some actual rest for once."
Jasper gave a tired smile. "Yeah. I probably should."
Josh paused at the edge of the cubicle. "Don't overdo it tonight."
"I'll try," Jasper said.
Josh nodded, then turned and walked toward the exit.
The office seemed to grow quieter after that.
Jasper shut his laptop down and began packing his things.
As he slung his bag over his shoulder, his eyes fell on the lunch box sitting neatly at the corner of his desk.
"…He forgot this," Jasper said quietly.
He picked it up, turning it over once in his hands. "I'll just give it back to him tomorrow."
With that, he tucked it into his bag, took one last glance around the office, and headed for the door.
He reached back and clicked off the lights in the office.
And Jasper stepped into the evening, unaware that it would be the last ordinary walk of his life.
He stepped outside, the evening air cool against his skin, and headed toward the crosswalk that led to the train station.
That was when he stopped.
He saw a girl standing across the road which seemed to suddenly appear before him.
Jasper frowned.
"Huh?" he muttered. "Where did she come from?"
For a moment, he wondered if his exhaustion was finally getting to him.
…Am I hallucinating?
She was small—too small to be out alone this late. Jasper's eyes narrowed as he watched her take a hesitant step forward.
Toward the road.
His gaze snapped to the traffic light.
Red.
His stomach tightened.
"It's still red," he whispered. "What is she doing…?"
The girl didn't look back. She didn't look at the cars. She just kept moving, slow and unsteady, straight toward the street as engines rumbled closer.
Jasper's fatigue vanished in an instant.
"Hey—!" he called out, taking a step forward.
The light hadn't changed, and the traffic wasn't slowing
A horn—loud, panicked—cutting through the air.
Jasper barely had time to turn.
The truck screeched violently as it stuck Jasper, as he was thrown off his feet.
His body crashed hard against the pavement several feet away. The air was forced from his lungs in a sharp, painful gasp.
Pain exploded through him—overwhelming, disorienting.
"Agh—!"
His vision spun as he lay there, unable to move. Sounds blurred together—shouts, tires screeching, footsteps rushing closer.
His chest heaved as he tried to breathe.
Where…?
His eyes searched the road.
"Th-the girl…" he whispered weakly. "Where's the little girl…?"
There was no one.
No small figure. No frightened face.
Just strangers staring down at him in horror.
"Someone call an ambulance!" a voice shouted.
More voices followed, panicked and distant, as if they were underwater.
Jasper's eyelids fluttered.
His body felt numb now—heavy, unresponsive, like it no longer belonged to him.
"I'm so…" he murmured, struggling to keep his eyes open. "Sleepy…"
Darkness crept in from the edges of his vision.
Am I… dying?
He tried to move his fingers. Nothing happened.
"I can't…" His voice trembled. "I can't move…"
A strange calm settled over him, exhaustion outweighing fear.
"…I might not make it," he whispered.
The world grew quieter.
Softer.
"So tired…"
A faint, almost amused thought drifted through his fading mind.
"…I'll make sure to get all the rest I need…"
"…in my next life."
"…Probably."
The thought dissolved.
So did everything else.
There was no pain.
No warmth.
No cold.
Jasper didn't feel his body anymore.
At first, he thought he was asleep—but even that idea didn't fit. There were no dreams. No darkness. No sensation at all. It was as if existence itself had been stripped down to a single point of awareness.
He was.
But nowhere.
"…Hello?" he tried to say.
Nothing answered.
His thoughts echoed back at him, untouched.
Panic crept in slowly, like water seeping through cracks.
Where am I?
He tried to move. There was no resistance—no confirmation that movement even meant anything here.
Did I… die from that crash?
The realization hit harder than fear ever could.
So this is it?
No heaven. No hell.
Just—
Nothingness.
The absence pressed in on him from all sides, even though there were no sides. It felt endless. Suffocating. Like being awake inside a void that didn't care he existed.
His thoughts began to spiral.
Is this what comes after death?
Just… endless nothing?
A wave of despair followed.
Not sharp, not loud, but heavy.
He felt like he was sinking—though there was nothing to sink into. Like he was drowning without water, buried without weight.
"…This is messed up," he thought weakly. "I didn't even get a warning…"
The void didn't respond.
Then—