1. The waiting room

A man sat nervously on the sofa in a quiet waiting room, softly singing to himself, "All I am, is a man, I want the world in my hands…" His voice was low, almost drowned out by the tap of his restless leg. But as he sang, his nerves slowly began to settle—his leg stopped bouncing, and the tension in his face eased.

The waiting room was plain, with a few chairs, a coffee table with old magazines, and a water cooler that occasionally gurgled. The walls were painted a dull color, meant to be calming but doing little to ease his anxiety. A clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second stretching endlessly.

He glanced at the receptionist, a polished and professional woman sitting behind a sleek desk. Her fingers clicked away at the keyboard, her face calm and focused. She looked flawless, with her hair neatly tied back and her stylish outfit making her seem in complete control—everything he felt he was not.

Though he was dressed formally, his shirt clung to his back, damp with sweat, and his shoes felt stiff and uncomfortable. Singing softly to himself was his only distraction. The song was one of his favorites, a way to calm his racing mind. "Use the sleeves of my sweater, let's have an adventure…" he murmured.

But no amount of singing could fully distract him from the strange situation he was in. He didn't even know what to call this—was it an interview? A meeting? All he knew was that this wasn't normal.

It had all started that day, he recalled. He had gone to bed after a long day, expecting to wake up at home. Instead, he found himself in this waiting room, dressed as if he were about to attend an important meeting. Confused and overwhelmed, he tried to make sense of what was happening.

A woman approached him. She introduced herself as Clara, her calm and serious tone only adding to his unease.

"You've died," she said simply, "and your soul is here, which is quite unusual."

He stared at her, stunned. "What? That's impossible," he said, his voice shaking.

"I understand this is hard to believe," she replied, "but it's true. You're here because your death was… not ordinary."

His heart raced as he tried to process her words. "What do you mean? How did I die?" he asked.

"That will be explained soon," Clara said. "For now, let me show you something."

She held out her hand. Hesitant, he took it, and suddenly, they began to rise, phasing through the ceiling of the waiting room and into the sky. Higher and higher they went, the room shrinking below until they were surrounded by stars.

As they floated, Clara pointed toward a distant speck. "That's Earth," she said.

Before he could respond, they sped back down, descending quickly toward his house. Phasing through the walls, they entered his bedroom. On the bed lay his body—still and lifeless. He gasped at the sight.

"That's me…" he whispered, staring at his pale face.

Clara nodded. "Yes. And now you know. You've died."

His voice trembled. "But how? What happened to me?"

"That's part of what you'll find out soon," Clara replied. "This meeting is meant to give you answers."

In a flash, they were back in the waiting room. Clara gestured to the sofa. "Please sit. I'll let you know when it's time."

He sat, singing quietly to himself in order to calm his nerves. The minutes dragged on until Clara finally looked up.

"James Anderson?" she called.

He stood up, smoothing his shirt. "Yes, that's me."

Clara gave him a small smile. "You may go in now."

James walked to the door, his heart pounding. As he entered, he found a dimly lit room with a large table. Behind it sat a man with glasses and neatly combed hair, dressed in a tweed jacket. He looked up with a friendly smile.

He set down his papers and chuckled. "Sweater Weather. A good song, don't you think?"

James thought to himself, 'This guy knows songs by The Neighbourhood.'

He looked at the man and said, "Of course it is."

The man, as if hearing James's thoughts, replied, "I get bored with all the paperwork, so I listen to songs a lot."

James wasn't surprised the man could read his thoughts. 'Of course he can—he's God,' he thought.

The man smiled and corrected him, "My name's Cole, and I'm not God—just one of His servants."

James was startled but quickly accepted it.

'Why would God Himself meet someone ordinary like me?'

Cole gestured toward a chair and said, "Have a seat, James."

James walked over and sat down. Cole's face turned serious as he said, "Now, for the important question."

Seeing Cole's serious expression, James straightened up, ready for something big. Cole cleared his throat and asked, "Can you recommend a few TV shows?"

James nearly fell out of his chair but managed to stay calm. Realizing Cole wasn't just anyone, he answered politely, "Uh, have you watched Friends, Modern Family, or How I Met Your Mother?"

Cole nodded. "I've seen Friends and How I Met Your Mother, but not Modern Family. Is it worth watching?"

"It's good," James replied.

Cole smiled. "I'll check it out. What do you think of the endings for Friends and How I Met Your Mother?"

James paused. "The ending of Friends was satisfying. Ross and Rachel ended up together, Monica and Chandler adopted twins, and everyone moved on. But I felt bad for Joey—he ended up alone."

Cole nodded thoughtfully. "And How I Met Your Mother?"

James hesitated. "I didn't like it. The ending felt rushed, like they ruined everything the show built over nine seasons. They killed off the mother just to pair Ted with Robin again. It could've been as popular as Friends if they'd taken their time."

Cole sighed. "Endings are tricky—they need to provide closure while meeting expectations."

James relaxed, realizing this was a casual conversation. Curious, he asked, "Cole, why am I here? What's the purpose of this meeting?"

Cole smiled. "Good question. Your death was... unusual, as Clara mentioned. Sometimes, souls need guidance before moving on."

"So, it's about closure?" James asked.

"Not quite. But it can be if you want," Cole replied cryptically.

James decided to focus on the important things. "Can you tell me how I died? And what happens next?"

Cole's face grew serious. "I can't tell you much about your death right now. Your soul is too weak to handle that knowledge—it could destroy you."

James frowned, disappointed. "Clara said I'd find out, but now I can't even know?"

Cole read his thoughts and explained, "Clara wasn't lying. You will come to know eventually."

James was confused. "What does that mean?" He was really tried of how every of his questions were answered in circles. This meeting with one of God's servant was turning to be quite useless for him. He was now really worried, what was going to happen to him.

Cole sighed, amused. "Come on, James. Haven't you read reincarnation or transmigration stories? Guess what's about to happen."

James's eyes widened. "Wait, are you saying I'm going to be reincarnated or something?"

"Something like that," Cole said with a smile.

James felt a mix of excitement as he seems to have forgotten about his earlier disappointment.

"Where will I go? What kind of world?" He asked.

Cole raised a hand to calm him. "You will have to figure it out yourselves. But first, I have some questions."

James tried to calm down his rising curiosity and nodded, ready to answer.

Cole muttered, "I'm thirsty. Are you?"

James hesitated, wondering if he could even drink in his current state.

Cole chuckled, "You can."

Two strawberry milkshakes appeared before them. Cole gestured for James to drink and said, "Let's get this out of the way—don't ask why you're getting this chance. Just accept it, okay?"

James nodded while sipping the shake, as he had no other option.

Cole asked, "Do you prefer reincarnation or transmigration?"

James thought carefully. "Reincarnation. Transmigration means taking over someone else's life, and I wouldn't want to do that."

Cole stood up and opened a window, revealing a sky filled with bright stars. He gestured for James to join him.

James walked over, confused by Cole's sudden behavior. Cole turned to him and asked, "What if your only options were transmigration or death?"

James frowned but quickly answered, "I'd choose transmigration. I wouldn't want to die."

Cole burst into laughter as he heard his response.

James panicked, wondering if he'd said something wrong. "What's so funny? Did I mess up?"

Cole eventually calmed down. "Your honesty is refreshing, James."

"But why such a big reaction?" James asked.

"You wouldn't understand," Cole said with a mysterious smile.

Suddenly, the room started to flicker and fade. Cole stabilized it with a glowing hand and said, "We're running out of time.....You know If you'd lied earlier, you'd have lost this chance. Honesty matters."

James shivered at the thought.

Cole's voice turned firm. "Now go. Live the life you want."

"Wait.....," But before James could further question Cole, the room dissolved into nothingness, and James blacked out.

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