They say that when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. In my case, it was shown like a movie at the cinema, complete with a much too large bucket of popcorn.
At least, it felt like a movie theater. There was a large screen at the front, but only one seat in the auditorium. I assumed it was for me.
In the back of my mind, I knew full well it wasn't a real movie theater. But that was easier for my mind to digest than the fact that I had just died. And I didn't know what was coming next, if anything.
I couldn't remember how I got to that room. It felt very similar to how when you wake up, you know you've been asleep for hours, but you have no idea how much time has really passed. How it feels to not know if you had only slept for five minutes, like it felt, or an entire lifetime.
It was unsettling to think about.
I sat down in my seat, the popcorn on my lap, and watched the screen.
"The Life and Death of Abigail Parker"
I watched my birth and all the gory aftermath that came with it.
I saw my first steps, heard my first words, all from the point of view of my own baby self.
I could feel my anxiety rise as I saw myself ride a bike with no training wheels for the first time.
The first time I drove a car, and the first drive I took by myself. Yes, I did make it to the gas station. I even pumped my gas by myself, something that had terrified me.
My first kiss. I did wish I didn't have to see that one again, it was enough to experience it once. We didn't last.
In all, my life was uneventful. I had no major trauma, save for a few car accidents (only one caused by me, mind you) and the eventual end of my life. I never married, not because I couldn't find somebody worth while but because I just liked being by myself. That was what I told myself (and my family, when they asked) at least. Kids weren't in the picture, unless you include my various jaunts working at daycare centers and caring for my nieces and nephews. I loved kids, but I never cared to have my own. Not on my own.
It was an uneventful, but rather short life. I was only thirty-two.
I watched in third person how I died.
It had been such a beautiful day. It was the beginning of summer, so it was not too hot and not too cold. The sun was shining, the trees surrounding me casting small shadows of shade. I could still smell the spring flowers in the air.
I got into my car for the last time, not even knowing that it would be the last time.
I watched myself merge onto the interstate on my way to run some errand that would never end up being done. In the top right hand corner of the movie theater-like screen was a timer. It began counting down.
0:30
I saw myself pull over to the shoulder after witnessing a pretty horrific car crash. I pulled up behind the accident, a safe enough distance away.
0:20
I saw myself run to the driver's side of the nearest car to make sure the driver was okay. She was. The driver was already on the phone with 911.
0:10
After confirming that help was on the way, I turned to walk back towards my vehicle.
0:05
That car just came out of nowhere.
0:03
0:02
0:01
Before the theater-like screen faded to black, I saw myself barely look up, much too late to do anything, at a car driving right at me going at least eighty miles per hour. My breath hitched, and I could feel the bucket of popcorn fall to my feet. It wasn't any easier to experience a second time.
"Are you ready, Miss Parker?"
I didn't even get to answer.