I watched him closely, half-expecting another one of those unsettling transformations, but he just stood there, one hand casually shoved into his pocket, the other gesturing toward the cab door, like he was the chaperone at a school dance. It was almost disarming—too normal for someone like him—and that’s what bothered me.

Death wasn’t what you think. It was like the punchline to a joke that you missed, leaving nothing but an empty, bitter feeling at the end. Maybe life was the joke after all. I glanced down at the corpse sprawled out in front of me, bloated and already becoming a feast for flies. The sight was familiar, yet the finality of it felt distant, like something just out of reach.

Then I looked at Death—really looked at him. I’d never imagined what he might be like, but this wasn’t it. There was something familiar in his eyes—a look I’d seen too many times before. It was the same haunted stare I’d caught in worn-out car salesmen and down-and-out hustlers: nervous, desperate, like he was about to pull a fast one on me. It was as if...

“Alright,” I said, turning towards the cab, pushing down the gnawing unease twisting in my gut. “Let’s get this over with.”

Before I could reach the door, Death materialized in front of me, his eyes now brimming with concern. “Just like that?”

Something didn’t sit right. He was holding back; I could feel it.

“Why not? I sure look dead to me,” I said, nodding at the waterlogged corpse. “It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. So, tell me—can you catch the game in the afterlife, or wherever I’m headed?”

Death raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of incredulity and something close to amusement. “This is where most people beg. You don’t want more time? No unfinished business? No lost love or vendetta to settle?”

I’d seen cons before, and this smelled like one. Death wanted me to plead, to bargain for another shot. And maybe a part of me wanted to, but a bigger part of me hated being played.

“Nope, I’m good.” I shrugged, trying to keep the weight of it all from crushing me. “I’ve lived my life. Wasn’t the best life, but it was mine. And, as my old man used to say, ‘when it’s your time to go, it’s your time to go.’” I attempted to dodge around him, but he moved to block me again.

“Hold on,” he said, raising a hand. “Are you really ready for what comes next? Don’t you even want to know where you’re headed?”

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I paused, considering his words for a moment. “Don’t care.”

His grin faltered, darkening into something almost... worried. “It’s not where you think.”

“I said, I don’t care.” I made toward the cab door again, but Death didn’t budge. His eyes narrowed, sharp as a knife. Then, as if deciding something, he deflated a bit.

“Alright, fine, you got me,” he muttered, frustration clear in his voice. With a swift motion, he slammed the cab door shut, the lock clicking ominously. From his cloak, he pulled out an hourglass and turned it on its side. Instantly, the world ground to a near halt—the ocean froze, waves suspended mid-crest, and the flies buzzing around my corpse hung motionless, their wings caught mid-flap.

“What’s with all the theatrics, Death?” I asked, my patience wearing thin. “Think I’ve had enough of the song and dance routine.”

“I figured if you asked me, it’d be easier than... well, it doesn’t really matter. They warned me you’d be difficult,” he said, shaking his head.

“Why are you really here? And what the hell is going on? You make a habit of collecting every soul personally?”

Death’s eyes darted around, his movements suddenly jittery, like he was expecting someone—or something—to be watching us. “Keep it down,” he said, his voice low, tinged with a Manhattan accent that wasn’t there before. He was trying to sound casual, but there was an edge to it.

The realization hit me like a brick. “You’re not supposed to be doing this, are you?”

“Technically, no,” he admitted, his reluctance palpable as his gaze slid away from mine. “But then again, you weren’t supposed to die just yet either, so we’re both in a bit of a gray area.”

A knot of anger tightened in my gut. “What do you mean, I wasn’t supposed to die? I’m standing here, pretty damn dead, aren’t I?”

Death sighed, rubbing the back of his neck like he was shouldering the weight of a thousand worlds. “Someone snipped your thread too early. Cut you loose before your time.”

I narrowed my eyes, suspicion and anger mingling. “So what, someone whacked me?”

“In an Eternal sense, yeah,” Death replied with a shrug, as if tampering with the cosmic order was just another Tuesday. “Someone’s been messing with the scales. I had a word with Fate—it’s not her doing, which is saying something if you know how tight she keeps her threads. That little detail should keep you up at night.”

“Eternal?” The word felt heavy in my mouth, like the cold weight of a loaded Glock.

“There’s a handful of us,” he said, waving it off like it was no big deal. “Time, Fate, War, Love, even the Devil himself.”

“So you’re saying you guys are, what, gods?”

“Eh, not exactly. We keep the show running, sure, but gods? No. I’m still on the fence about whether there’s really someone up there pulling the strings or if it’s just us making it up as we go along. If there is a man upstairs, you’d have to admit he’s made some weird decisions. I mean, just look at sex—or the duck-billed platypus. Who thought those were good ideas?”

He smirked, but the darkness in his eyes didn’t fade. “No, we’re not gods. And the positions aren’t permanent either. Think of it more like an immortal nine-to-five.”

“Good benefits?”

“Eh,” he shrugged, “not a lot of vacation time.”