It is surprising.
I talked with the Grim Reaper last night. His visit shocked us both.
This is the first time I’ve met him, despite witnessing the passing of others.
He wasn’t there for me. I think he came to talk.
Oddly, he was two-dimensional. Not a towering figure, or a presence of ice. Instead, he took on the shape of the house.
The leaf of a plant…the back of a dining room chair…the silhouette of a porcelain woman…edges created by a gift of metal and aluminum…illuminated by the dim overhead light of a shelving case.
We stared at each other. I’d walked right past him at first, but found my gaze drawn on the return.
There was no fear. There were no words. His presence coincides with a recent development of omens. Omens trailing behind into the past.
Yet, he still came as a surprise.
I stood above his outline, unable to depart. I can’t say I understand, but he makes sense. He brought no emotion to the meeting.
He just wanted to talk.
No empathy. No doubt. So why does he care?
I could have rearranged his figure. It wouldn’t take much to send him away. But, I didn’t have permission. Not his permission. That wouldn’t matter.
I talked with the Grim Reaper last night. It didn’t last long, though I left him in the hall. And I slept fine.
I can’t say I understand, but he makes sense.
We are both surprised. And life goes on.