I first met Finn on June second, 2009. He welcomed me to this town, and showed me the ropes. He helps all of the Newcomers.
I was 83 when it happened which is old, even for this place. I was sleeping, and when I awoke, I was in a new house, with new furniture, and it took me a while before I could even sit up. I was scared and alone, but Finn helped me through it all, he knew exactly what to say, exactly what to do. He assured me everything was okay, and I believed him.
I missed my family, of course. I used to dream about them every night, for the first couple of months. But now, the dreams don’t come. Forgetting was devastating at first, but it is sort of a relief. It is hard to cry over something you can’t remember.
As Finn explained, there are three phases each Newcomer goes through. The initial transition phase is mostly dealing with the confusion, fear, and curiosity. One man once tried to run away, back home, but when he hit the border of the city, he fainted and woke up back in the brick apartment building.
The second phase is the realization, or the tell-all of what has happened to you. For me this was the most enlightening phase, while at the same time the most depressing. It was when I realized I had lost my beautiful Anna, that she would continue to live our life without me. It saddened me to imagine her alone, but I knew I was ready to explore this new world.
That’s when I moved into last phase, acceptance. Sometimes it feels like one hundred years ago, but time moves differently here, so I can’t be sure. I made a home for myself, helping others ease into their own transition.
Once they complete their transition, they can choose to live on in this little community, or choose to leave. It is a very rare choice to leave, because once you do there is no coming back. Not just here, but anywhere.
Finn and I have grown very close over the years, and we try so hard to make all of the Newcomers feel safe and welcome. It is important to do so because there are constantly new people joining our little community. For example, the woman and her daughter on the fifth floor, they came about eight months ago. It is always nice to have such young spirits here, but it is also an awful feeling. They are both so small, so innocent. And the teenage boy, he arrived last year. He doesn't talk much, just waves. Dan and Charlie have been here awhile. Dan had to leave his wife, it was truly devastating, but just like everyone else, they have become accustomed to the way of life here, and try to make the best of it.
It is a lovely place to live, but it’s no paradise. Our little town has lots of quirks that take some getting used to. For one, you can’t change your clothes, ever. It is fine for people who arrive in their suits and dresses, but spending eternity in pajamas has its downsides. And if there is a stain or a rip, you can’t fix it. Whatever happened to you before the transition stays. The days pass and seasons change, but every day seems to be exactly the same. Everyone’s adjustment is different, your injuries, your feelings, your family, and your entire experience. Mine wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t scary or unexpected. I knew. I was ready. I’m sorry to say its not like that for everyone.

Dan is a father, husband, and proud dog owner since ‘07. He is 38, handsome, and he’s a lawyer, or at least he was a lawyer, until he came here. He spent most of his time at work, early mornings, late nights, case after case of criminals and innocents. He was a very successful man, clever, intelligent, and a shark in the courtroom.
His son, Charlie, is only four. He had just started preschool before the transition. His mother was his teacher. Charlie rarely saw his dad because of work schedules and meetings. Charlie was very close with his mother. She looked like a Disney princess with fair skin and gorgeous locks of golden hair. She always made a point of putting others before her, never saying “no”, and made the best out of every bad situation. “Your mother is an angel” Dan always told Charlie. And he believed him.
Charlie was also extremely close to his dog, Boxer. Boxer is a Golden Lab/Dachshund mix. He was adorable with his long golden body with such tiny legs. Because he was so short, his stomach would drag on the floor when he ran, and sway side to side when he walked. Boxer and Charlie would play out in the yard together after school, splashing mud and chasing butterflies.
Like I said before, not everyone has such a pleasant transition. Dan, Charlie, and Boxer were very surprised to come here. They hadn’t planned it, and when they did arrive, a lot of explaining had to be done. Dan wouldn’t even believe it for the first few days. He remembered the floor boards shaking, and glasses crashing, but he still can't remember what happened next. He was the man who tried to run away. He even left Charlie behind. He just ran and ran until he reached the border, where he fainted and woke up back in the brick building, and that’s when he finally gave up resisting, and realized that what we were telling him was the truth.
Coming here has been extremely beneficial in mending Dan and Charlie’s relationship. Being forever stuck together has strengthened their bond and allowed them to start their lives over anew. Like I said, every town has it quirks, but it also has its bliss.

Karen is a single mother, recently divorced. She caught her husband with another woman, a yoga instructor twenty years younger than he is. Her name was Brit. Not Brittany, just Brit. They claimed to have a “Unique and unspoken bond” that she wouldn’t understand and that she should be happy that he is happy. He even tried to convince her to stay. But Karen made the decision to get divorced, she fought and won custody of Lily, and they planned to move to California in the summer. Karen was heartbroken over the divorce, but she had moved on and was excited to start a new life with her daughter.
Lily is seven years old. She was in the middle of her second grade school year when it happened. Their time may have been quick, but it was painful. This little girl not only witnessed her family breaking apart, but was almost torn apart herself. She might forget, like we all have; forget her father, forget her school, forget everything; but young minds are stronger than those of adults. They hold tight to memories and stories, absorb information and never let it go.

Hudson was something of a loner. Fifteen is a tough age for anyone, especially given his condition. He was diagnosed at 12 with Lymphoma, a cancerous disease that targets the immune system. Hudson understood his future, and he came to terms with it early on. And if that wasn’t bad enough, his mother died when he was born, and his father, a coward at the least, left Hudson because he “couldn’t cope with the depression of losing his wife, and the stress of raising a child.” 
Hudson differs from the rest of the tenants here. Always alone, he roams around town, peering in the windows he has seen a thousand times, and listening to the same playlist of songs on his black iPod touch. His hat is worn out, the poof at the top sags down to his neck. His eyes are piercing blue, like the color of a cloudless sky after a rain storm. He has never spoken, not even to Finn. He didn't need to be told what happened, he already knew. He knew where he was and why he was here; he said he saw it in his dreams, every night, he said, the pictures became more clear. He is the only one of us who hasn’t visited the room with the red door at the end of the hall.

Jim Carson is a 48 year old man, short and stubby, his hairline inching toward the back of his head with a mass of oily black hair combed over a very obvious bald spot. He was a father of four children and a husband to a New Jersey trophy wife. Before he came here, Jim was a successful manager of several SaleMarts around the New Jersey area. To his dismay, Jim was fired a few days before his transition because he was caught gambling company money in a basement poker game.
He became depressed and thats when everything changed. He would yell at his wife and children and started drinking. His wife threatened to divorce him if he couldn’t support his family. He couldn’t lose her, he loved her and he had already lost so much. To make end’s meet he began selling drugs. At first, it was minor, but as things progressed, Jim became addicted. He was buying, selling, and now abusing drugs. He would sometimes come home high and drunk and he would scream at his wife. He sold their TV to buy more, then his car, his father’s gold watch, and his his wife’s engagement ring. That was the last straw.
On a sunny Saturday afternoon, his wife asked for divorce, and she moved out with the kids and left Jim alone, with an empty house, a stash of drugs, and a stack of court papers. You can imagine what happened next.

Finn led the man to a bright red door at the back of the hall. He opened the door and locked it behind them. “This is you. The beginning and end.”
The walls lit up, each one containing a hundred photos and videos of Jim and his family.
“This way,” Finn walked toward the first wall to their left. It was filled, top to bottom, with pictures of Jim. His baby photos were lined across the top, then pictures of his parents’ wedding. A home video of his first christmas played across the middle. Jim was crying in a pile of wrapping paper.
The next wall showed Jim in high school, he had braces and long shaggy hair. He chuckled as he watched, embarrassed of yearbook photos. A picture of his graduation ended the second wall and Finn walked toward the third. This picture was of Jim’s wedding, of his four beautiful children, of his birthdays and job promotion parties. He was smiling so much in every one of these photos. It was refreshing to see himself so happy.
Then, the fourth wall turned on. It started with Jim being fired, his poker game, his angry screams and shouts. It showed his drinking problems and his depression. A picture of the divorce papers flew across the screen. Jim cried, he was balling, his yelps could be heard by the rest of us, waiting outside the door. Finn pointed to the bottom right-corner of the wall. A video was playing. It was of Jim. He was looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. His eyes were red, and his face pale. He punched the mirror, the glass fell into the sink and cut his knuckles. He collapsed on the floor. He pulled a bottle of white pills out from his pocket, removed the cap, and dumped all of them in his hand. With one swift move, he flicked his wrist and the pills fell into his mouth. He gasped, swallowed, and closed his eyes. Jim watched himself as his body sunk in, his chest stopped inflating with air, and his head fell back onto the blue tile.
The walls blackened and the overhead light turned on. Finn placed his arm around Jim. He was kneeling on the floor with his face in his hands, sobbing. He trembled and jumped with every breath.
“It’s okay. I know that must have been hard, I am sorry, but I promise, everything will be okay.” Finn smiled and lifted Jim to his feet. He unlocked the red door to reveal the rest of us. We stood there, with open arms, and welcomed Jim. We welcomed him to his new home, to his new family. We welcomed him, to heaven.