After the Nothing
After the nothing came something: a blue ceiling with random streaks of white, a bright sphere of light looking down on me, happy chirps of birds like a Saturday morning greeting, a fresh layer of cotton under my back and legs, and a friendly breeze teasing my rested face.
After something came more something: the bittersweet aroma of newly pressed coffee, the seductive smell of maple syrup, and the warm whiff of cinnamon buttermilk pancakes.
After something came nothing. I got up from the bed and tiptoed to the table of breakfast awaiting me but the cook was not there.