It was always white—pure, untouched white. There was no black. Gray wasn’t even an option. This was how it always was—and how it always will be. Life was nothing but beautiful, fulfilling. I thought about this for a moment. I have no recollection of life without its white happiness. I didn’t even know what to call its opposite, if it even had one. From my time at university, I learned that according to quantum mechanics, reality doesn’t exist unless you look at it. I guess that’s why no one experiences an opposite—it simply doesn’t exist. And because no one experiences it to begin with, it cannot exist. It’s the principle that begs the question of our existence.

     My brain hurt.

    I shouldn’t be thinking about these kinds of things. It didn’t do any good; in fact, it didn’t elicit any emotion from me. I then snapped out of it. It didn’t alter my mood, as if anything could. I simply returned to my joyful state.

    I left my room feeling content and headed towards the kitchen. I started the coffee brewer. The sun was shining through the blinds, discreetly, as if it was trying to whisper something to me. Upon opening the blinds sunlight flooded the room. Everything was how it should be. I saw the gentle movements of a woman’s mouth as she spoke to what seemed like a close friend. I saw a man drive past, unbothered by the morning traffic. I saw a mother walking with her daughter, hands intertwined. The little girl suddenly let go and gracefully ran down the sidewalk to pick up a dandelion. She blew on it, releasing its seeds into the wind. She giggled.

     “You’re staring again.”

     I was startled. I hadn’t realized that the coffee had overflowed. I turned around and was greeted by the radiant smile of my wife. But a warning would have been nice.

     “Good morning.” My smile matched hers. It was routine.

     “How long have you been awake?”

     “Not long. Sorry about the mess,” I said, gesturing towards the spilled coffee.

     “You know not to apologize, Jay. I’m happy you even thought to make some for the two of us.”

     She kissed my cheek and went to sit down on the couch. I remember when I had asked Caroline to marry me. I remember bursting diamond white.

     I had come to realize that life is experienced in different vibrancies of white. Content is a dull white with no luster. Gratitude is a pearly white, the kind that is shown through a smile. Excitement is snowy, the vibrancy one would often see in children. The best kind of white, however, is felt when the body becomes so filled with joy that the mind gets lost in the moment. That white is the color of the sun in the middle of the day, too bright to be looked at. It’s the kind that burns. I’ve only experienced it once in my life.

     It was when I had just returned from a business trip. It had been two months since I saw my home, my friends, Caroline. Everything felt warmer. Caroline had embraced me, and I felt a sense of peace that I had never experienced. Time was nonexistent, and I couldn’t feel anything but the raging white. It was a coming-home moment that was forever burned in my memory.

     Coming out of my trance, I left the kitchen and went to the room to get dressed for the day. I put on a suit and a black tie. Contrary to the color scheme, I felt classic white, a variation of the dull white of content. The only good thing about being taught quantum mechanics was having it land me a job at NASA. I was a counterintelligence agent that protected the organization’s information. I stared at the black fabric that covered my body. Could this be a vibrancy of white? An absence of vibrancy perhaps?

     No, that’s impossible.

     I entered the living room to find Caroline watching a show. I kissed her and headed out the door. After getting in the car, I turned on the radio and heard the chipper voice of the host.

     “Congratulations! You are caller number six! You have just won tickets to—'' I switched to another station; “Sweet Emotion” by Aerosmith was playing. That was better; for some reason, I didn’t want to hear his upbeat voice today.

     I reached a stoplight and looked to my right to see the local park. I saw the same little girl and her mother from earlier this morning. She had replaced the dandelion with sticks and was sorting them into piles based on length. Her mother was sitting on a nearby bench, reading a book. The girl, losing interest in the sticks, darted towards a ball that had been left behind by another child. She walked towards her mother to present her new treasure.

     “Mommy! Mommy!” I could see her mouthing the words. She was almost there. “Look at what I found!”

     Getting caught up in the excitement, she tripped over the curb and dropped the ball. It rolled into the street. The girl’s mother set her book down and extended her hand. The child got up on her own and, before her mother could react, ran after the ball.

     The light had turned green, and in an instant, I heard sirens.

     Traffic had stopped. I got out of my car to witness the scene. The girl’s white dress was now stained with browns and blacks and reds. My eyes widened. Her body was motionless. I looked around to see a crowd of people—officers, firefighters, paramedics, civilians. The girl’s mother was talking to one cop while the man who had hit the little girl was talking to another. The incident had an unfamiliar effect on me. I couldn’t find the words to describe it. The mother, who had been addressed by the cop as Elaine, was smiling and laughing. I inched closer.

     “I’m so happy she was able to spend her last moments at the park. You should have seen the look of determination on her face when she ran after that ball,” Elaine chuckled.

     “Of course,” the officer replied. “Children do tend to have that spark.”

     All the white that had previously colored my thoughts had now been washed away by a sea of black. It was a corrupt feeling. It felt wrong. The noise that surrounded me became muffled. This wasn’t right. A girl had just died. Why were people happy? Can’t they feel the opposite? My mind raced. The burning white that I had once felt was not nearly as overwhelming as the blackness that had just consumed me. I had a shortness of breath. I felt the faint laughter close in on me, and slowly, the world around me became as black as I felt.

     I woke up in a white room. Bright white lights were blinding me as I lay in what looked like a hospital bed. It made me feel nauseous, but I couldn’t quite explain why. I just knew that I didn’t want to be surrounded by any more white. My breathing became heavy, and I became restless.

     “Hey, hey.” I turned my head to where the soft voice was coming from. It was Caroline. She placed her hand on my shoulder, and my breathing became steady again. I was glad to see her. She smiled. “I’ve missed you.”

     My expression must have shown my confusion. Without having to ask, she began to answer my questions.

     “After you left for work, Jay, you passed the park and saw a little girl lose her ball. It rolled into the street, so at the stoplight, you got out of your car to retrieve it. You were then hit by a distracted driver and fell into a coma. When I received the call, I felt empty. I was terrified.” I saw a glassy film over her eyes. I could tell that reliving the moment made her want to cry. “I rushed to the scene. My eyes widened. Your body was motionless.”

     I couldn’t speak. I felt all emotions at once—but none of them white. I had heard stories of people who had been pronounced dead but soon came back to life. They had usually described Heaven as a place without sadness, anger, or grief. However, I never believed them until this moment.

     I now understood why Heaven greets with white lights. It is a place where any negative emotion is cast from the soul. Black absorbs; white reflects.

     Before I could even utter a sound, I started to cry, and a wave of blue washed over me.