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Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

I died when I was 28 years old. I stirred one morning at 7:01 am, shrieked inside my head, and passed out before my eyes opened. If I’d woken up an hour earlier, I’d have felt the warm gush of sleepy air, as the hallway heater came to life (Alexa set a reminder to clean the heater vent).

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