The Disappeared Walk
Old Wang felt light and airy, like a falling autumn leaf, gently swirling. He "saw" himself lying on the cold floor, his body stiff. The wall clock in the living room had stopped at 2:15, the time of his last walk two days ago, in the afternoon.
"Strange, how am I here?" Old Wang wondered. He tried hard to remember, but could only recall walking slowly in the neighborhood as usual, breathing in the air filled with the scent of sweet osmanthus, watching children play in the square.