"W-why…? Everyone always loved me… Why? Why am I dead then?" Feloria wondered as she aimlessly floated in the dark void.
"I loved serving people in that small bar," she thought, remembering the warm moments of her past life.
"Another one?" a young man asked politely, setting his empty glass on the counter.
Feloria smiled. "Of course, coming right up!" she said cheerfully, grabbing the bottle from the shelf. She poured him another drink, then continued polishing the glasses.
"Everyone loved me, and I loved them!" she thought—but her heart shifted from warm and bright to heavy and cold. "But then… it happened."
Feloria finished her shift and went outside to take out the trash, her last little duty. "These people never clean up after themselves," she said with a small smile.
She tossed the trash away, and as she turned around, she saw three figures standing in front of her. They were tall—too tall—and the streetlight could only illuminate their backs.
