After David Eagleman

In the afterlife, you wake up in a one bedroom flat. It’s not the one you died in but the bay window looks familiar and your fingerprints are on the skirting board. The kitchen has nothing but a microwave and there is no food anywhere. You go hungry for six days until you are frustrated enough to slam the microwave door. It pings. You open the door and inside is the ASDA lasagne you ate on your first day of university. You remove the meal and shut the door. It pings. You open the door and inside is grandma’s leek and potato soup. Shut. Ping. Open. The popcorn dad hated the smell of. Shut. Ping. Open. The receptionist from your first job’s scrambled egg. Shut. Ping. Open. Reheated pizza from your engagement party. Shut. Ping. Open. The beans the day Jim died. Shut. Ping. You will open the door for eternity and burn your fingers again and again on bowls you will one day forget where they came from.

© Carl Burkitt 2023