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Only time would tell when he would come back. I could have married an older guy, take all his money in the process. But no. It'd look suspicious.
As if I wasn't suspicious-looking already.
I had just finished digging up another hole when I recognized the ghastly noise behind me.
He's here!
I whipped around to see his hooded face: shade and all.
“You're not much of a talker, are you?”
Grim looked through his list. This was the third time I had seen him in the past month. “That's fine,” I said, grabbing a cup of tea from my armchair. “Do you like chamomile? A nod or shake would suffice as yes and no.”
Grim looked up from his papers. Without a confirmation, I forced the cup into his bony fingers.
“It might be lukewarm. It’s been sitting here for a bit.”
Grim held the cup with a tight grip and looked down at his cup. Even beneath that hood, I could tell he was blushing. Or maybe his ominous black cloud of dust was emanating more smoke to appear more ominous and I just interpreted it as a blush. I sat back down in my chair, admiring his structure.
“... do you remember everyone you've reaped?”
Grim looked at me almost disapprovingly. The smoke huffed for him. Oh, He was so mysterious when he did that. He grabbed his scythe, ready to leave. For a second, I almost forgot why he was here.
Shoot. I had to do something to stall him.
Just as Grim was about to leave, I keeled over. My palms gripped the grass. My knees buckled. I let out a real-sounding cough as my forehead found its way into the dirt. I was the one dying for once.
For a second I heard silence. I thought he left.
But then I realized that black smoke never left me. It still made my eyes water.
I looked up at him as pathetically as possible. His hand was on his hip. He shook his head. I felt my lips curl into a sheepish smile.
“Are you going to drink your tea?”