text: The door knob twisted silently. The only thing that told the room's occupant that it had moved was the small click of the latch. The door, swinging open, moved just as quietly. A tall, pale, man entered the small room. The heels of his boots echoing on the tiled floor. The occupant, Darius, looked up at the footsteps. It was different from the soft beeping of the heart monitor to his right. His wrinkled hands shook as he closed the book he had been reading. He shifted slightly allowing him to sit up higher in his bed. This visit was expected. He had been waiting for it ever since he entered the hospital. The Man before him was exceptionally well dressed. A tailored three piece suit, black, covered his thin frame. A silver chain led from one pocket to under his suit jacket. He had a long overcoat, also black, draped over his left arm. In his right hand he held a cane. It was long to match his height, and it had an elongated, sharply curved handle running parallel to the floor. His face was smooth skinned with no beard or mustache. The brim of his hat covered his eyes as he looked over his cane. "So you have finally come for me," Darius spoke. His voice, once deep and robust, was now thin and frail. The Man looked up. Black eyes focused on him. He missed a breath. Those eyes were fathomless, and old. They had seen things he couldn't imagine, and now they were trained on him. "You can see me?" The Man asked. His voice was smooth and carried supreme confidence. Despite the surprise his statement implied, his face showed none of the emotion. He seemed more curious than anything. It was the first time Darius had ever heard him speak, but it was not the first time he had seen him. "Yes I can. I have my whole life," he replied. Reaching over he laid his book on the small bedside table. It rocked every so slightly on its wheels as he touched it. "Interesting." Silence fell between the two. The only sound filling the room was the steady rhythm of the heart monitor. He didn't know what else to say, and the Man seemed content in his silence. Darius thought back. Back to the first times he saw the Man, or at least the first time he remembered. The sterile smell of the hospital room faded; the musty smell of an old trailer house filled his nose. His mother had been passed out in her room; sleeping off whatever she had gotten high on. He had been left to fix the little food that was left in the house, and could be cooked by an eleven year old. His younger brother and sister waited eagerly at the table for the boiled potatoes he had managed to make. Having saved a few for his mother, he brought a plate back to her room. There before him was his mom, foam on her lips, unmoving on her bed. Standing over her was a tall thin man. He looked from his mother to the Man then back to his mother. The lights flickered, and the intruder was gone. He dropped the food, rushing to his mother. Screaming her name and shaking her arm. She didn’t wake up. From then on he could always see the Man around in seemingly random places: on a busy intersection, standing outside a house, or waiting at a construction site. It was years before he had another direct run in. After his mother was gone, the three children had moved in with their father. He had enjoyed the government check he got for them as much as their mother had. Finally he was able to afford all the booze he wanted to drink, and drink he did. At the age of fifteen the Man had visited Darius' house once more. This time to see his father who had spent the last few days on a bender. The Man had walked straight past the front door and behind the children. Darius had looked up from the TV to watch him go by. He stood to follow, but couldn't make his legs move. Something about the Man's back, retreating from him, told him not to go. His brother and sister didn't seem to notice; the cartoons were too interesting. He sat back down on the faded couch slowly as a door in the hallway closed. The three had been moved into foster care the next day. It was around that time that Darius was old enough to figure out what he was seeing. What the Man meant. From that point on anytime he saw him, he turned and went the other way. Running from what he knew he was seeing. The Man visited more than a few of his neighbors. He clocked out early when his workplace received a visit; that place had been shut down shortly after and he had to find a new job. When his sister had followed in their mother's footsteps; ending up in the hospital for her drug of choice. The Man had come to visit. He had seen him enter his sister's room. To his shame, fear overwhelmed him. He couldn't bring himself to enter his sister's room. He stood in the middle of the hall staring at the door as the alarms started blaring. Only moving when a nurse pulled him aside as doctors tried to rush around him. The Man visited his friends, his family, and even his late wife. Now he was visiting him. Darius came back to the present. The hospital smell returned. The clock showed only seconds had passed. The Man was still standing before him; a pleased smile on his face. "Many who meet me have their lives flash before their eyes. I try to give them time to process it," the Man's voice filled the silence. "I feared you," he began. Ignoring the statement. "I did everything in my power to avoid you." "That is very common." "Then I hated you." "That is also very common," that statement carried a hint of dejection. "I hated you for what you took from me: my mother, my father, my family, my wife. I spent almost all of my years believing you were evil. "And now?" "And now," Darius sighed. "Now I believe you were there to give them peace. To lead them to the other side." The Man's face seemed to brighten. "Never did I think to meet someone who could see me," the Man said. "Let alone one so understanding." "Do I have time to call my children before you take me?" The Man pulled on the chain coming from his pocket. A watch appeared. With a press of a finger it opened and he examined it. "Unfortunately, no," the Man apologized before making a suggestion. "If you want more time you can always challenge me to a game of your choice." "No, it's okay. I am ready." "Very well," the Man approached. His footsteps echoed loudly over the floor. When he reached the bed he moved his cane to his left and reached out. "For what it is worth I am sorry." "It's okay old friend. Take me home." The heart monitor stopped beeping.