Fiction
Death’s First Day
The first day on the job is always hard
I woke up to find an eight foot tall man in a rumpled suit staring down at me.
The last thing I remember was falling asleep in Algebra.
The large man bent down, grabbed me by the shoulder and lifted me to my feet.
“Sorry sir,” he said, “some find their first trip overwhelming.”
“Where am I?” I asked.
“The nexus point between realities.”
“So not Michigan anymore?”
“Decidedly not.”
“Why am I here?”
“To see him,” the large man extended an equally impressive finger and pointed to a white haired figure sitting at a desk.
“Have you been here the whole time?” I asked.
Both men laughed. The old man got up from desk. “Why yes, as a matter of fact I have.”
“This is Time,” the large man said.
“Is that like a nickname?”
He chuckled, “no like the primordial entity. Much like you.”
“Huh?”
He looked at the large man, “You didn’t explain it to him on the way over?”
