Instantiation, a short story

The area around me is dark, but there is enough ambient light to see that there is nothing around me. When I breath out, I can see the vapor. It's cold, but I can't feel it. I touch my left forefinger to my right arm and I can feel the hairs rise to meet the fingertip. I think that means there's a slight static charge in the atmosphere. I can't wrap my mind around the idea that it can be cold enough to see my breath, but not cold enough to discomfort me. 

"Hello," I call out in a normal, conversational tone. 

There is no echo, but my voice isn't tight and small. I'm in a large, open space. How large is anyone's guess. Well, my guess, at least. Nobody answers. I opt not to try louder for fear... of. I'm not sure. I dwell on that for a moment and realize that I can't think of a single thing that might threaten me. Ever. I start thinking about that point and try to establish some context, but nothing comes to mind. Eventually, it seems pointless to continue dwelling and move on. I haven't moved from the spot I found myself, so I try a tentative step.