"Look at me, focus. Are you okay?"
A figure leans into his field of vision, the details of its silhouette swallowed by the blinding light that surrounds it but he thinks he can make out the shape of hair, long and waved, color unknown though he assumes it’s dark, brown probably; like his.
The voice that reaches his ears is muffled, and he swears he knows who it belongs to, who it belonged to; but his brain, currently clouded by a thick fog, can’t piece it together right now so his focus goes to sitting up, back still flat against the ground before his body begins to twitch and stir. His movements are light, airy, and the weightlessness of it all disturbs him because there’s no reason why he should feel like a feather floating in a dancing breeze but he does and it’s bothersome.
An endless expanse of white disorients him tremendously once he’s upright because there is no left or right, nor is there an up or down; there’s nothing but white and the silhouette that faces him, hidden features still unrecognizable.
❝ I.. ❞His voice is hoarse, throat dry as if he’s swallowed down nothing but handful after handful of dirt and soil and at the back of his throat, there’s the faintest phantom taste of earthworms as he squints up at the figure. There’s a feeling at the center of this chest that tickles beneath his bones, one that pulls and urges him to get to his feet; to slither passed the silhouette with that familiar voice and step straight into the bathing glow but he stays where is, sitting on what should be the ground with confusion painting his face.❝ Where am I? ❞