Elias didn’t feel the impact. One moment, there was the screech of tires and the blinding glare of high beams; the next, there was only a profound, heavy silence. The frantic world of steel and asphalt had vanished, replaced by a soft, amber-tinted fog that felt like a warm blanket.
Please give me some proof/story to suggest afterlife may be real
He wasn’t alone. Figures moved in the distance, half-remembered faces that felt like home. A woman approached—his grandmother, who had passed when he was seven. She didn't look old or frail; she looked like a memory of summer.
