After a filling meal, I gently set my chopsticks down on the table. Normally, I lay them flat next to each other, but somehow I crossed them this time. I shook my head. Bad luck.
Picking them back up, I tried once more to set them down parallel, but my fingers moved them into an X once more. I attempted to roll the top one off to the side, but it crossed in a different direction.
I frowned but decided that there wasn’t much I could do about it. It didn’t matter anyway; it was time for dessert. The tray arrived, and I served myself grapes and a few cookies.
As I stacked the cookies in front of me, next to my chopsticks, they arranged themselves into a triangle. Strange. I picked up a grape, peeled the skin off, and popped it in my mouth. I was looking forward to the sweetness, but found it dull and flavorless. I blinked rapidly. Everything had taken on a sort of blurriness, as if I were drunk or daydreaming.
With that, a floodgate of memories opened. I closed my eyes and saw my life as a viewer rather than a participant. The cinematic story of my life unfolded in front of me, culminating with my death in a car crash.
But I wasn’t dead. I couldn’t be. I was in a restaurant. I’d just eaten a full meal with all my friends and family. I looked around. No one was there. I couldn’t seem to see past my table. Everything beyond a few feet was dark nothingness.
A low beat began to play. Like someone drumming slowly on a wooden table. The sound was quiet but somehow reached deep into my soul.
From the nothingness, a voice began to recite in monotone:
“Your meal has now ended. Dessert has come.
What you’re served depends on where you’re from.
A family meal with friends and strangers.
Generosity, love, and mercy major.
You’ve spent your time as well you could,
So enjoy your dessert: it’s sweet and good.”
The darkness melted into a brilliant white, and I felt myself called home.