A Word From Death

“So,” Death says.

“Yes, please, now. I have the courage now.”

The tremor in my voice betrays me.

I hold out my hand. Pleading.

The blackness under Death’s hood watches me.

They say nothing.

It means everything.

“Just let them find out gently. Please let them heal well, and we - I - will just… go. Now. Get ahead of the rush.”

My arm aches from begging for their hand.

“Please. I will go back to being a coward soon. But right now. Right now you can take me. Willingly.”

My throat has turned to dry stone. A tear threatens its appearance.

They watch.

“Please just let it be over. Let it end. I don’t understand how to be human. It’s too hard.”

A whispered plea that finally touches on the truth.

My hand falls.

I cannot weep.

“So,” Death says finally.

“Yeah,” I nod.

They go on without me.