It’s a brand new day, and the sun is as bright as your parent’s smiles when they first held you in their arms. The birds are jolly, but you can’t hear their voices because this city has woken up, and everyone is once again ready to live their monotonous life. The same old clinking of utensils, preparing breakfast, sending kids to school, waiting at the bus stand or getting ready for the office presentation, all start again. Nothing around you might have changed overnight but for me, this is not a usual morning. This is the morning after my death. Yes, last night when you were probably in your bed with your loved one or partying with friends or maybe crying yourself to sleep, I left this world, slowly but all at once.

I woke up today and realized this is not where I used to be. There are no faces around me; all I see is a vast land, more of a desert. It grows and grows as I move forward, it seems like there is no end to it. I have been walking since last night, but I don’t feel tired. My legs aren’t asking me to rest, and my throat is not pleading even for a drop of water. I know I am here, but I really can’t feel myself. I walk and see no foot imprints, but the sound of each step is crystal clear.

When I was among you all, I always wondered what would change when I would leave this world? My absence would feel heavy to my friends and family, but my memories would fade away one day. Now, when I am here in this unknown land, I realize that death changes lots of things. Along with the life of my loved ones, the world will change too, but the change will be unnoticed and minor.

While I step forward in this never-ending land, you are walking in a world that will surely end one day. But today there will be some extra space. In the metro, there will be one less person standing. Every morning I used to wait in a queue for my coffee while others stood behind me; I hope now they will reach their destination a little earlier than they usually did. On the way to the office from the metro, a friend of mine sleeps on the roadside. I used to feed him biscuits, and in return, he wagged his tail. Seeing him was the best part of my day but sadly today he will neither get the biscuits nor my love pats. In my office, someone would have to do the extra job, my coffee mug has my lipstick stain and the quotes I read aloud to myself will go voiceless.

There will be one less person tonight sipping coffee as the night gets darker. At the dinner table, only five plates will be served instead of six. An author has lost one of his readers, an artist will receive one less appreciation letter, and a half-written story in my drafts will stay the same, never coming to its end.

This is life; you wake up every day and walk towards something new, putting each step in the direction you hope is right. Then in the middle of the hustle-bustle, your heart stops beating, your eyes can see no light and your ears only hear the silence, and your story never meets its end. Now, I am a sentence that failed to reach the full stop. Maybe this is the full stop. This is the end.