You've never read Slaughterhouse-Five, but you read the cliffnotes for a test a month before your murder, and you want to find the guy who wrote it because he got it pretty goddamn right. Except the irony is, because he was right, you're too stuck reliving the past to do anything else, let alone find a guy who may or may not be dead and whose name you can't remember.
So instead you swim in bright colorful light and think about how things could've gone while you replay how they did. Except one day you get your presence of mind back early and you rewrite a scene between you and Veronica where you tell her you love her and miss her and you'll always be there for her no matter what.
Except that's when you realize you might be wrong about death cause Veronica's hair looks a hell of a lot shorter than you've ever seen it, and suddenly she's asking you who killed you.
Of course that's when the light comes back.
You figure it's a pity the nicest thing to ever to pass your lips is now relegated to dream status by its recipient, but also next time: you're totally doing more than talking.