I knew he would be here soon, just like the last time, it’s exactly the same as last time.
    ‘Hello Maggie. You know why I’m here,’ said Death.
    There he was at the other end of my room whilst I sat in my armchair, exactly the same as last time. It was then that I had him explain to me why he looked and sounded the way he did, why he looked and sounded just like my college boyfriend.
    ‘It’s been fifteen years since you were meant to die, I’ve given you fifteen years so please don’t be difficult,’ he continued brushing his blonde away from his eyes.
    He looked as great as he did when he was eighteen: long blond hair, green eyes and dressed in denim and leather. He looked exactly the same as he did fifteen years ago. Wait, this isn’t him. This isn’t Danny.
    ‘Another fifteen years can’t hurt,’ I joked, my voice dry and cracked with age. It had been a long time since I saw Danny, the actual Danny, but this illusion death had taken on worked on me like a charm. Looking at him I felt as flirtatious as a teenager even though I was 97.
    ‘Fifteen years was the deal and that was pushing it. You finished what needed to be done and everything is how it is: everything needs to die and that includes you.’
    Listening to his voice made me want to cry, it made my sagging skin and withered bones ache with the need to turn back the clock and hold Danny. Hold my Danny and tell him that by the time we were 97 we will be two old cronies, eating biscuits in our armchairs and croaking with laughter until death came to take us; confused due to our happy indifference. I thought I wanted this, I thought if I had more time I could be ready, ready to see his green eyes just one more time before I went. I was angry.
    ‘YOU TOOK HIM FROM ME!’ I cried through my sunken eyes and into my crinkled fingers.
    ‘I am not the reason for anyone’s death I’m just the result of the end. Danny is dead and this is the reason I am able to represent him. I am nothing and I am empty; you fill in the gaps with your own desperation and anger.’
    I glared at what should be empty space, at the light skin covering a corpse. Then Death approached, not walking, but gliding over the wooden floor until he reached me and knelt… his arm extended he placed my left hand upon his cheek. It was cold and I could see the box they shoved him in, deep down in the ground. I could feel the weight of the earth as my fingers warmed and the ground started to break, my joints loosed, Death stared into me with borrowed eyes and my anger faded.
    ‘Danny’s waiting,’ Death whispered.

photo credit: Thoughts via photopin (license)

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