Lindy Conners woke up dead on the day she would have turned twenty-five. For a single blissful moment, she remained oblivious to her new state. She stretched her arms and legs out across the mattress, reveling in the luxury, the cocoon of the warm sheets. As she continued to lie there, however, and the five more minutes she had promised herself in bed ticked away, awareness of her own death filled her slowly, like light filling a room. It did seem strange to her that this transformation from living to dead had taken place without leaving her a memory of panic or pain, yet she could not deny its consequence. For she felt a stillness in her body that went beyond mere sleepiness. Her bloodstream itself stood still. Her systems and cellular processes and her inner electricity had all slowed to silence. No heartbeat contracted in her chest, just as...
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