You know how it feels when you don't move your foot for an extended period of time so when you do move, it starts to feel all tingly? The feeling is commonly described as pins and needles because it gives the effect of repeatedly being prodded with thousands of sharp points.

When I died, it was just a sort of fade out to black. When I felt next, whatever process that was, my entire body was tingling with pins and needles. It wasn't exactly painful; just uncomfortable.

Time didn't seem to pass in a normal way, just kind of irrelevant. I slowly peeled my eyes open, and the feeling in my body subsided.

I was on a beach, the kind of white sand beach that I didn't think existed outside of the stock photos. It might not. I honestly didn't know.

"Sky?"

I turned my head, Lincoln was there, looking at me. There was that look in his eyes, the look he got when he was worried or scared. The vulnerable look. I smiled back at him.

"Yes?"

He didn't say anything, wrapping me in an embrace that scared me. It was like he thought I was going to disappear. Like he needed to get the last memory of me. I had to swallow the lump in my throat to talk.

"Babe, what's wrong?"

He shushed me. His nose was in my hair, and I had to admit that it felt nice, but he shushed me! First, he went off scaring me, then he shushed me.

"Lincoln," I tried again, whispering gently in his ear, "I don't know what's going on right now, and you're not helping. Please talk to me."

I felt him nod, silently. "When's the last time I told you that I love you?"

Not what I meant, but it was something. I thought for a moment.

"Probably last night. Why? Lincoln, what's going on?"

"I love you. I just feel like I need to say that."

"I love you too. You know that, but seriously some acknowledgment of this," I pushed myself away from him, gesturing around us, "would be nice."

He buried his head in my hair again. When he got like this, it meant he thought we were screwed. Oh, crap, we were screwed. So, what did I know about this place?

1. Not much really.

That was an easy list to make. We were screwed. I wrapped my arms around him, putting my face in his chest. This wasn't too bad. Time still didn't feel quite right, but I would venture to say a decent amount of it passed before Lincoln finally started speaking again.

"We're dead, aren't we?"

"I think so."

"Is it just me, or is it nicer than I expected?"

I laughed at that. I laughed like a lunatic. It wasn't even all that funny, but it was better than the cryptic mood we had both fallen into. My mom always said, "It's better to laugh than to cry."

He drew back a little bit, his eyes on my face. What was he thinking? I didn't want to know.

But I kind of did want to know. He was smiling. Wait, he was smiling? Oh, he was too cute when he smiled. Is it possible to have a heart attack when you're most likely dead? If you could, I was just going to excuse myself to do that.

I cleared my throat. "Why on Earth did you come back inside for me?"

"Do I really have to say it?" He asked, suddenly looking sheepish.

"Uh-huh."

"I couldn't live without you. There, now are you happy?"

"The happiest," I beamed up at him.

All the expression drained out of his face. He gripped his hand in mine, pulling me so I faced the same way as him. Advancing up the beach was a man stiffly walking in a suit. It looked like the absolute wrong clothes to wear on a beach. Not that I was one to judge, I mean, me and Lincoln were still wearing our charred clothes from school.

I couldn't believe it, but I actually wanted to shower. That was a new low.

"Lincoln Carver, you are now officially deceased. Skylar Flemings, you are now officially deceased."

That seemed unnecessarily redundant.

The man stopped in front of us, uncomfortably close.

"You two both made very interesting cases, but we have made our ultimate decision. Your lifetime ultimately dictates your afterlife. Skylar Fleming, you lived your life well. It was easy to decide where you would go. You will advance to the first floor of heaven. Everything will be registered for you to start immediately.

"Lincoln Carver, you lived your life... with a certain oddity. The start was rough, but since you met Skylar, you fared much better. That is why you will only go to the second floor of hell."

I squinted at the man. I hate to be a Karen, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Is there a manager here I can speak to?"

"I am the manager." He said with his same decisiveness.

"Well then," I said, suddenly unsure of what to say, "can you explain why Lincoln would be going to... there."

"Yes. It came to motives in the end. The majority of the good he achieved in the world was in an act to impress you, so it didn't count to send him to heaven."

I squeezed his hand. I wasn't leaving him.

"Would there be a way for us to remain together?"

Lincoln came to a start. "No. Sky, please don't."

"I suppose," suit man started to explain, "if you thought your experience in heaven would be unsatisfactory without him, you could opt to join him in his afterlife."

"No. No. I can't let you do that. Look at me. Don't do it."

Sorry, Lincoln.

"I would like to opt to do that."

Our holding hands was almost painful now. I felt slightly less sorry.

"No." Lincoln had turned to suit man. "Don't let her do that."

"Skylar Fleming will now be sorted into the same afterlife as Lincoln Carver. I wish you both the best."

Lincoln tried to protest again, but the suit man snapped his fingers, and the world around us disappeared. Sorry, not sorry.