I open my eyes and am surrounded by whiteness. This must be heaven. I must be on cloud nine. I touch the walls and feel the coldness of metal. My fingers trace the line of a door. I put my ear to it and hear silence. Am I locked in or are you locked out? I sit down and stare at the white womb. Imagination is limited. I lie down, but sleep eludes me. Everyone is an insomniac in heaven. I court with insanity. I wait for you. Wait for your time to end and our time to begin. The door opens and there is light, blinding me. The door closes and dissolves into the wall. I open my eyes and see you standing. Only, it isn’t you. It is my maker. My father. This isn’t heaven.