CHAPTER 1
Greg adjusted his tie for the fourth time and cleared his throat.
“Hello,” he said to his reflection. “My name is Greg, and I'll be your reaper today.”
No. Too casual. Too much like a waiter introducing the specials.
He tried again. “Greetings. I am Field Reaper Grigoreth, and I'm here to guide you through your transition from?—”
Too stiff. He sounded like a form letter.
The bathroom mirror offered no feedback. The fluorescent light above it buzzed and flickered, casting his face in tones that made him look either sickly or dead, depending on the flicker.
But that was only appropriate.
“Hi.” He softened his voice and tried to make it warm and inviting. Like the kind of voice you'dwantto hear at the end of everything. “I know this is confusing. I know you're scared. But I promise?—”
The door banged open.
Greg jumped. A reaper he vaguely recognized from Processing shouldered past him without acknowledgment, heading for the stalls.
“Sorry,” Greg said automatically. “I was just?—”
The stall door slammed shut.
So much for that.
Greg looked back at the mirror. He had to find his thread again.
“I promise,” he said, quieter now, “that what comes next isn't something to fear. Death isn't an ending. It's a?—”
The toilet flushed. The other reaper emerged, didn't wash his hands, and walked out without a glance in Greg's direction.
Greg watched him go.
No, no more distractions.
He forced his gaze back to the mirror again and straightened his tie a fifth time.
“Death isn't an ending,” he whispered to himself. “It's a threshold. And it's my honor to walk you through it.”
He believed that. Hebelievedthat.
He just wished he didn't have to believe it in a bathroom that smelled like… well, like this.
Greg didn’t mind that upper management had passed the Bodily Needs Mandate to bring them closer to their clients, but couldn’t they have been given a nicer bathroom to take care of those needs?
Maybe not.
Mortal life was rough, wasn’t it? Dirty and gritty and inconvenient at times. Messy and chaotic and loud. Greg knew that. Greg had studied it in detail for decades. He’d seen the good and the ugly. The awful and thewonderful.
He licked his lips and stepped away from the mirror.
He was ready.
Greg found Morrith in his office, which was less an office than a cubicle with walls that were slightly higher than everyone else's. It also came with a shiny nameplate. These were the perks of seniority.
Morrith didn't look up from his paperwork. But then, he rarely did.
