Member-only story
Featured
FICTION
Death Needs a Rebrand
How do you help the Grim Reaper over coffee?
The smell of coffee pulled me from my stupor as I walked into the bustling café from the pounding fall rain. I scanned the room, and I saw her.
We had only corresponded via email, but there was no doubt that she was the one I was supposed to meet.
She sat in the far corner at a table near the large window facing the busy street, her long, flowing black cloak spilling onto the floor, her white skeletal features protruding from the mantle, and a long scythe propped against the window behind her.
Everyone else in the café was giving her table a wide berth.
I approached her table. There were already two drinks there. She was sipping a black coffee. A tall paper cup sat in front of the seat opposite her.
“Ms. Reaper?” I asked.
“Please call me Grim. All my friends do.”
With a graceful sweep of her hand, she motioned for me to sit and join her.
“I got you a large chai latte, extra cream. That’s your usual, right?” She said.
I smiled awkwardly and nodded. I began to sip, letting the chai finish the job of awakening my senses.
