[ WP ] You are on the train to the afterlife . Detail your conversation with a fellow passenger .

A sudden lurching woke me up. 
 
 `` Oh god oh god oh god!'' I screamed, trying to continue from where I left off only to realize I was no longer falling off a cliff. I quickly shut my mouth when I noticed people were staring at me. 
 
 I checked myself and found no scrapes, bruises, or anything missing. Just regular me and what I was wearing before I had slipped off the mountain trail to the rocks below. 
 
 I found myself on a seat, in a train, which had just started moving. To my right, a man stared at me with an amused look before returning to his newspaper. The others had fixed their eyes forward again. 
 
 `` Excuse me, sir,'' I said to the man on my right. 
 
 `` Yes?'' he replied, setting his paper down. He looked old, perhaps in his late sixties, with a grey beard dominating his face and nothing else. 
 
 `` Well uh... This is all strange to me. I was just falling off a cliff and now I'm... here. I guess I'm dead?'' 
 
 `` Ah, so this is your first time.'' He moved his paper aside and shifted in his seat. `` I have n't heard of one of your kind in a while now. Yes, I regret to inform you that you are dead.'' 
 
 A surge of surreality washed over me. I could understand dead. My sudden attempt to make peace with God as I plummeted revealed I had already accepted that. But first time? 
 
 `` Of course it's my first time. You only get one time.'' 
 
 `` That,'' he said after a brief pause, `` is not true at all, actually.'' 
 
 He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. On it was a 10 x 10 grid with holes punched through most of them in no perceivable order. `` This is my ticket,'' he said. `` Each hole is a trip I've made on this train. Mine's been punched seventy-three times so far.'' 
 
 I looked up from the ticket to him. `` You've died seventy-three times?'' 
 
 `` Seventy-four, actually. The conductor has n't made his rounds yet. When he does you can give him yours. Check in your pocket.'' 
 
 I slipped my hand into my pocket and felt a piece of paper. I pulled it out and saw a similar ticket his, only mine had no holes punched. 
 
 `` How have you died so many times, but not me?'' 
 
 `` Well I've been around for a while,'' the old man said. `` You, on the other hand, you were a recent addition. I'd say you're about what, twenty-five? Twenty-seven?'' 
 
 `` Yeah, twenty-seven,'' I said. 
 
 `` Twenty-seven years...'' he said as he stared out the window beside him, stroking his beard. Blurry glimpses of an outside raced by his face. By now the train was moving at a steady pace, ever so often jostling as it ran its course. `` Twenty-seven years... I think I remember you.'' 
 
 `` What do you mean, remember me? Do you mean from your past life?'' 
 
 `` Oh no,'' he said with a hearty chuckle. `` You see, we usually get cycled back through after spending some time in the Other Side. Death is like taking the bench to get a breather in a sports game. You recuperate, maybe talk with the coach a bit, and then head back in there. 
 
 `` A new soul, however, that's not a common thing. It happens from time to time, and when it does there's a powerful reason, planned far in advance. I heard about you on my last trip to the Other Side.'' 
 
 `` No, you're probably thinking of someone else,'' I said, shifting my gaze away to the seat in front of me. `` I did n't do much of anything remarkable in my life, I do n't think.'' 
 
 `` Do n't sell yourself short,'' he said, with a stern look. `` We all are sent with a mission and we do n't come back until it's done. I'm sure it will come to you in time.'' 
 
 I did n't take the chance to respond. I did n't want to discourage him, he seemed like a nice guy after all, very friendly. I thought about my life. What could I have done of any significance? 
 
 A door behind me slid open. `` Tickets please!'' a voice shouted. I gave the man my ticket. He punched a hole right in the middle. I expected him to say something about my blank slate, but he just moved on and punched others' tickets. 
 
 I stared at the hole, a permanent mark of death on my previously unblemished record. How many more times will I find myself here, getting holes punched for meaningless lives? Why was I a recent addition? 
 
 `` What should I do when we get to the Other Side?'' 
 
 `` Not sure for you. But you'll find out when we arrive,'' the man said. `` Do n't worry, just sit back and enjoy the rest of the trip.'' He returned to his paper.
