A Question of Mourning

“Will you mourn them when they are all gone?”
“I do not mourn.”
“There will be nothing left for you to do.”
“There will always be death.”
“You are the death of humans. Not of rats or pigs or what will come after the humans are gone.”
Death’s response was to tug his cloak into place with a thin hand. He could not feel the cold, but he knew it was there.
“You will mourn.”
The man standing beside Death tapped the contents of his pipe out into the dirt then felt in the pocket of his red waistcoat for a pouch of tobacco. For as long as Death had known him this man had smoked a pipe. Sometimes he smoked thin cigarettes. “For a change.” the man would say and then laugh his high, thin laugh.
“Why should I mourn? To mourn is human and I am not human.” Continue reading “A Question of Mourning”

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