[ WP ] You die and go to heaven only to be told you have `` unfinished business '' and are sent back to the moment 10 minutes before your fatal heart attack to finish it . You have no idea what this `` business '' is .

I wake up. Again. Alive, somehow. I was told I had... what was it, unfinished business? Something like that. 
 
 I remember a searing pain -- something like dying, I guess -- and then I blacked out. But... if I'd died... why did I... 
 
 The unfinished business. I think... I must've been sent back. 
 
 I look up -- there's a clock on the bedside table. 5:43 PM. I had my... whatever killed me at... 5:50? Maybe. I do n't really remember. That's just my best guess. 
 
 I'm still in bed. I do n't bother getting up. Not until I do a little thinking. 
 
 I do n't know how I could've been sent back. If it's 5:43, then I must've gone back in time. Which means I'll still die in seven minutes. 
 
 The thought forces a cold shiver through my entire body. Seven minutes to exist. Seven minutes to pretend, to move this sack of meat through the motions again. 
 
 I thought I'd finished that when I took the pills. 
 
 I think. I must've done *something* wrong to end up here again. Something minor, but something just big enough to rub one of the angels the wrong way. It's probably some kind of sentimental bullshit. With them, it usually is. 
 
 Not like I'd know. But again. My best guess. 
 
 The door in the front hall below me slams shut. My girlfriend's home from work. Hanging up her coat, putting her bag down on the chair even though I told her there's a spot in the closet for it. Looking for me without calling my name. 
 
 5:45. That's when I took the pills. Without a second thought -- I wanted it then, and after a brief second of introspection, nothing's changed -- I grab the bottle off the nightstand, pop the cap and dump the whole goddamn thing into my face, swallowing, crunching, mashing them together, whatever I have to do to get the whole thing down. 
 
 I cough. It's a lot to swallow without water. 
 
 I sit there, for a minute or so. I ca n't think of what I was supposed to do, and the descending fog over my mind is n't helping. Whatever it was... maybe the angel will *tell* me this time instead of giving me cryptic bullshit. 
 
 5:47. I lean over and glare at the clock for making me relive this part *again*. I know. It hurts. I should n't be doing this, it's selfish, whatever, fuck you. I know what I want. 
 
 My hands shiver. It spreads -- up my whole body until I'm convulsing and I ca n't stop. Seizures, must be. Ca n't think of anything else. 
 
 I was a little close to the edge anyway, but my leaning to look at the time put me over. 5:48, I'm on the floor with a crash, and I ca n't muster the control to get back in bed. 
 
 Dying on the floor is n't optimal, but... it's not the worst thing, I guess. That'd be surviving this. Which I know is n't happening. 
 
 There's thumping, coming up the stairs. Kate, running up here. Finding out what the sound was. 
 
 She whips open the door -- sees me there. I try to look up, but it's an exercise in futility. 
 
 `` Mike!'' she screams. 
 
 It hits me. The difference from then and now. 
 
 She's here. I died alone before. 
 
 I can say something, if I get the chance. 
 
 I open my mouth. My lips quiver, my tongue shakes, and I try and push and -- 
 
 `` I'm calling 911!'' she shouts. `` Do n't -- just... just hold on!'' 
 
 The words pool in the back of my throat -- 
 
 She's on the phone. `` He's dying, I think it was some pills -- Mike, please!'' 
 
 I force them forward. 
 
 `` Kate --'' I croak, with all of my heart. All of my soul. 
 
 The operator's words become background static in her ears. `` Mike?'' 
 
 `` Kate, I'm sorry.'' 
 
 The one change. All I needed. In truth... all I wanted. 
 
 The world cuts to gray, and fades to black. 
 
 A new scene opens. 
 
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 Mmm. If you liked that, you can check out my other crap over at /r/spiral_architect, where I pretend I'm popular or something.
