The air is heavy, moist and warm. I feel it on my skin and in my lungs. My clothes stick to my body. I am uncomfortable and I want to get out of wherever I am.
There is no sun or moon in the sky, no light from the building around me to reflect on the wet street. There is no one around, no signs of life. I do not hear the engine of cars in the distance or the humming of air conditioners.
As I walk down the street in search of ... anything, there is a light in the distance. A street lamp. With nowhere else to go, I walk toward the light. Eventually, I notice a man stands in the light. The closer I get I recognize his cheap, wrinkled suit, his worn leather shoes and his dirty fedora. "Hey," he says softly. He almost sounds like he care.
I stop. "Hey, Murray. What's going on?"
"Don't call me that. Don't be an ass."
"It's your name. Tell me what's going on."
"You don't know?" He chuckles.
"You're the detective."
"You're dying, brother. This is it, adios."
I had a feeling something bad was about to happen. The street got a bit darker. I feel my heart in my throat, and the air gets cold. Instinctively I take a step toward the street lamp. I open my mouth, but it feels like I almost have to physically push the words out. "Light's not at the end of a tunnel, eh?"
"You got it all wrong. There is no light for you. You're dead. Keep walking."
I stare down the road and everything further than one hundred meters has faded into darkness. "What?"
"There is no light when you die, savvy? That's the whole point, see? There's nothing else for you, so keep walking. You're done."
It gets colder the closer I get to the void. Just before all my sense fade to nothingness, I hear his laugh and the last few words of wisdom I'll ever hear.
"Damn cold, ain't it?"