I know this place.

I’ve run across these tiles countless times before. The last time I stood here, I stopped to stare at the stones, and I cried. I was leaving the first and only place I’d ever called ‘home’.

Now I am standing here again. Why am I here? Why am I being forced to relive this moment?

Where am I now?

I do not know this place.

I don’t understand this. I can see myself. Touch myself. Am I dead?

Yes, I am.

My lifeless body. It looks as though I’ve met a violent, sad end.

Is this what awaits me now?