“I’m really not sure of how you operate, but why would you put me in a room with a person that you don’t want me to talk to,” Frank said the Angel of Death now sitting on a gravestone in the town’s local cemetery.
“You guys obviously worked out the whole communication thing.” The angel rolled her eyes as she opened her book and began scribbling in some notes. “You were able to ask for help while she was asleep right? I don’t know why you’re complaining to me about all this.”
“You know. You’re not very helpful. I have no idea why I’m still here.” Frank’s face looked genuinely confused as he began to raise his voice toward the Reaper. “Is it because someone killed me? Do I have to find out who did this to me?”
“You’re supposed to find that out yourself. If I told you what really happened, then you wouldn’t believe me.” The Angel of Death began to get up off the gravestone and walk away.
“Wait!” Frank screamed as he stumbled behind. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t figure this out on my own. Why can’t you help me?” Frank felt a deep piece of sadness creep up from the pit of his stomach, and the look in his face made the Reaper walk back to the graves where Frank was standing.
The Angel of Death had a face of pity painted on as she grabbed Frank’s hand and led him away from the grave stones. “Okay. Umm, why don’t I take you to your ex-wife’s place? I think you can get some answers from there too.”
“I don’t know if I can see her right now. It’ll be too much for me.” Frank said as he followed the angel towards the woods. He waited for her to stop and say that she wasn’t going to take him there and that she understood the pain that his ex has caused him, but she didn’t. She kept walking and muttered the last thing that Frank wanted to hear at that moment.
“That’s the point.”
Jazzed About Stuff 