I sense a fleeting ripple. I curl up tight. There isn't space to stretch anyway. As I start to settle, there is a squeeze. The walls close in. Squeeze - Panic - Relief. I feel like a worn out, floating therapy ball. Soon, there is no room. My head is wedged against the exit, my arms flexed across my chest, my chin tucked. With every squeeze, I am pushed a little more through.

Chitragupta, Yama's aide, picks up a fresh ticket. As I emerge crying, he stamps a date and hands it to me.

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