What started as a speck on the horizon has slowly shaped itself into a lean figure of a man. The dirt road does not kick up clouds of dust as she walks and a sea of sunflowers brushes against it urged by the wind. As she draws closer to the figure she notices not only the perfect cut of his suit but the glory of the watch whose crystal face he keeps touching. His thick black hair is held in place with pomade that smells of fall leaves. When she finally arrives she resists the urge to curtsy especially when he extends an elegant hand for her to grasp.
“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice a melody on the wind.
“What is next.”
“What was wrong with what was before?”
“Not a thing, excepting of course that you are dead.”
“I don’t feel dead.”
“What did you imagine that dead feels like?” he asks bemused.
“Not this. This is alive.”
“This is most definitely not.”
“Who’s to say?”
“I am to say.”
She narrows her eyes as he touches his watch again.
“Does this place seem like a place on earth?” he asks less amused.
“No, but I haven’t been to every single place on earth.”
“Do I seem human?”
“No, but neither do fairies or gremlins.”
“Fairies and gremlins aren’t real.’
“Seriously? I don’t really have the time for this. I’ll come back later when you have had more time to think on it, to grasp the concept of dead.”
And with a tiny irritated pop he is gone.
Slowly her face stretches into a Cheshire grin. It may be true that you can’t cheat death, but you sure as shit can annoy the hell out of him.