Life and death
My birth was nothing special. It was average. Less than average I suppose.
I was born. And that was that.
But I think the gods were watching that day. Or just feeling like doing something different. Because death has come for me ever since.
He had his finger in the pot I was created in. Him and Fate and Luck. Because though he was there throughout my childhood. So were they. I was lucky to survive him. To survive childhood and the mess that came after.
I wonder what he thinks some days. Did he follow me through life for a reason?
Maybe he likes stories as much as I do. Maybe he saw the future I would have if I kept following fate and luck. The life I hope I'll have.
Does he like tea? Should I make some for him one afternoon and see if he drinks it? What kind of food does he like? Tell me it's pastries. Pastries are nice.
Or maybe he likes strange dishes from far away places. I'd think he'd have a favorite from each country he's visited. Maybe he has sweets for all the children he walks to the other side. His pockets are probably filled with trinkets and gifts that he has gathered. Each human he meets giving him something or telling him stories from their world if they can't.
Why is he following me still?
Did I do something? Was I someone bigger in a past life? Did I do something in the heavens before I was cast down here?
Did I know him better than myself?
Is he in love with me?
Or am I in love with him?
Perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps I was cursed instead. Maybe he is nowhere near me.
But I'd like to think. That somewhere in the vast universe, Death knows me. And follows my work.
I hope I can make him proud one day.
And when I finally greet him. I think I'd greet him as an old friend, and fill his pockets with books, trinkets, and kisses.