His Emotional Responses Were Beginning to Shut Down

A canteen at the edge of heaven.
Piano music plays which has been recorded in such a way so as to render it discordant upon playback. The ghostly voice of a woman whispers about advertisements and everlasting pleasure.
A detached looking waitress drifts around, tending to the few quiet, elderly customers.
A window affords a glimpse of infinity. No birds. No clouds. Just the gleam of a cold sun. A vacant, violet sky. Nothing else above or below.
Jim sits at a table, glancing at a weathered menu, glancing around the room, glancing at his hands. A hot cup of coffee sits before him.

A girl enters and sits opposite him.
She makes a sound like a computer whirring and then a sound like rustling leaves.

Jim had come from a place where he didn't belong. He was somewhat calm now, yet remained haunted by preceding events.
Colours still weren't registering correctly, strongly enough.

A weathered paperback novel sat on the table before him, beside the coffee cup. The title of it was The Metaphysical Bukkake. The girl lifted the book and studied it for a moment with impassive eyes. Jim sipped his coffee and watched her.

The doctor on the phone: "We've noted that his emotional responses are beginning to shut down..."
Burnt static and then perfect silence.

The waitress brought the girl a cup of green tear which Jim didn't recall her ordering.
Jim tried to look at the menu again but the words were all blurred. He contemplated the possibility that his eyesight was failing.

Jim stood at the urinal. He had realised something. Despite being lonely he didn't want to go back into the canteen. He had a quiet longing to escape.