text: Death loved his work. For as long as he could remember, Death had been traveling to every nook and cranny of the globe to take humans to the afterlife. When someone was ready to move onto the afterlife Death was able to hear them and those around them, like a bell rung during a still night and he would come to claim them. Death loved traveling the world and deeply enjoyed that his work took him to so many new and exciting places every day. One day Death heard a family speaking about their son who had been involved in a terrible accident. They hoped for his recovery, but when Death visited the man in the hospital Death knew it was the man’s time. Death did his duty and placed a single finger upon the man’s heart, ending his life. Death began to leave, but as he turned he heard the man’s family begin to curse and swear at Death. Their faces swelled red with grief and rage, and their voices howled at Death for what he had done. Death could not understand. It was not his fault the man had died, it had simply been his time. Death continued his work, but he began to notice more people blaming him everywhere he went. As he claimed drunk drivers, frozen hikers, and crushed bikers he heard more and more people blaming him. Those close to the recently deceased continued to curse Death for what he had done and soon despair began to grow inside of Death. Even though he could still hear countless people who were ready to be claimed, Death stopped visiting anyone. He could not bear any more blame. Before long, no one was speaking ill of Death, for no one had died. But Death was still not happy. All Death could hear now was people thanking Death for sparing their loved ones, but without his work Death wandered aimlessly, unsure of where to go or what he should see. His despair only grew as he meandered without purpose. Then, amidst all the people praising Death for his mercy, Death heard a single voice that sounded different from the others. This voice was not asking for mercy or to be ignored, instead the voice was calling to Death, begging him to visit. Intrigued, Death obeyed the voice and followed its source. He found an old man, bent from age and folded by wrinkles laying in his bed. Around the man’s room Death could see pictures of the man as he looked when he was younger. Death saw photos of the man graduating schools, catching fish, getting married, playing sports, holding a newborn child. The man had lived a long life full of rich memories. Almost all the photographs of the man also included a woman who Death could see grow old alongside the man. Death looked around for the woman but could not see her anywhere in the room. It was then that Death recognized the woman. He had claimed her some years ago, in this very room. The old man spoke again, asking for Death’s touch. Death took the man’s hand in his own, and as the man passed on Death heard a soft whisper of thanks pass from his dry lips. Death resumed his work, but every now and then he ignored a call if there were not enough photographs.