It’s that simple. If you’re kind to others and not a garbage human, you’ll come to the good place. If you’re rude, hurtful, and harmful, well, you go to the bad place.
I’m not as nice to those souls. It’s kind of a perk if I’m being honest. Though, far more humans go to the good place than the bad place.
Veronica looks around, her mouth parting as she sees this world that’s a reflection of her own, only better. There’s no pain here, no hunger, no hierarchy. In the good place, everyone is equal and life is good.
Sometimes I wish I was brought here instead of the in-between place, but beggars can’t be choosers. At least I’m not a ghost. I shiver thinking about it. The thought of being listless and alone in the veil is one of my greatest fears.
“This is Heaven?”
“Kinda. This is registration. Bruno will get you all sorted,” I tell her, directing her to Bruno’s desk.
The man gives me a bright smile and I roll my eyes. I hate it when he’s working at registration. Can’t they give this man a better job? How he even got sorted here is beyond me, the dude gives me the creeps.
“Mors, wait!”
He falls behind me and taps my shoulder. I grimace, but fix my face before turning toward the afterlife grunt. My robes swish behind me and smoke crests around my wrists in frustration. He swallows but licks his lips. It’s clear he wants a woman who is willing to take charge, but he has the wrong reaper in mind entirely.
I’m absolutely not signing up to be this dude’s mommy. I grimace as I turn and look at his sweater vest, khakis, and prescriptionless glasses.
“Bruno.”
“I was hoping maybe you’d stay. We could get coffee or lunch.”
“No thank you. Like I said, I’m not interested.”
“Well, why not?” he asks, and I’m just over his repetitive attempts to take me on a date.
This has to be the tenth time I’ve refused. Why a simple rejection isn’t enough, I’m not sure, but it’s getting tiresome.
“You’re not my type. I’m sorry.”
I wince when I say I’m sorry, because I absolutely do not owe him an apology. Not after the countless times I’ve said no and he keeps being persistent.
“Well, what’s your type?” he asks, affronted.
I won’t deny that Bruno isn’t ugly. I can like women but still appreciate an attractive man, but he does absolutely nothing for me.
“Women, Bruno, I like women.”
“Oh,” he says, blinking at me. “Are you just saying that to make me go away?”
“You’re so lucky I don’t carry a scythe around,” I whisper, not even bothering to answer his stupid fucking question.
I make a vow to be nothing but rude to the glorified, afterlife government employee from here on out.
By the time I’m back at the apartments, I’m exhausted from the souls collected, Death’s non answers, and from Bruno being a complete prick.
Even though the day has been draining, the last thing I want to do is to be alone. I’ve been so lonely for so long. I’m grateful for the friends that I have, and even for the cupid who’s forced her way into our lives and become one of my closest friends. But there’s something missing, and it’s only becoming clearer the more I watch Love and Death together.
I want my own person.
I don’t know why I’m so dead set on that person being a cupid, but I am. While Love is one of a kind, she was made for Death. It’s hard to explain, but there’s no one else in any realm or universe who would be a better pairing for either of them.
That’s what I want.
The person who clicks so perfectly with me that there’s no denying our connection. I want the person who is truly my other half. What I lack, they have. What they need, I can provide. I know I’m being an impatient pain in the ass, but as I knock on Death’s door, I can’t find it in me to care.
Thankfully, it’s Love that answers. She has a black towel wrapped around her, and Death is scowling on the bed behind her.
