a stroll with Death

Death came over this morning. Wanted company. He reassured me. “Naw, I’m just lonely, nobody to talk to, it’s not That Time yet.” We strolled down to the liquor store. He bought me a cigar. “You would buy me tobacco!” I said. We had a good laugh at that. It was a good cigar. He got some cognac. I declined. “Too early in the day for me.” He looked at me, and–perhaps out of kindness, or perhaps out of a desire to not say the predictable thing–chose not to say that it was later than I thought.

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