A fall—ironicallynotfrom a cliff?
Greg didn't know what form the collection would take.The clipboard didn't specify cause of death, only the time and place.
“Pasta,” Dustin muttered, consulting the list. He turned down another aisle.
Greg started to follow, then stopped.
There was a soft popping sound.
He turned.
Valerie.
She was standing at the end of aisle three. Her expression was calm and her posture was composed and she looked exactly like what she was: a reaper here to do a job.
She also looked sad.
“Val,” Greg said.
“Hi.” She licked her lips. “Morrith sent me.”
Greg's stomach dropped.
“I know,” Valerie said gently. “I know this is hard.”
“You're here for Dustin.”
“I'm here to do a collection.” She paused. “You know standard procedure.”
“This isn't standard procedure. This is retribution.”
“Grigoreth…”
“The system didn't recalculate. It's retaliating.”
“What matters is what the file says.” Valerie's voice was steady. “And I know what you think it means. But the window is opening and the assignment is real and I'm here because Morrith doesn't trust you to…” She stopped herself.
“To do my job,” Greg finished.
“To let this happen.”
The canned goods aisle stretched between them. Somewhere in the store, Greg could hear the distant squeak of cart wheels, the thud of something being restocked.
“Val,”he said. “You can't.”
“I must. It's my assignment.”
“He's not supposed to die today.”
“According to the file, he is.”
“The file is wrong.”
Valerie looked at him, and her expression shifted into something that hurt worse than anger. Pity. “Greg, listen to me. I know what happened to you. I know you got attached. I know this feels like the end of the world.” She took a breath. “But this is what we do. You know that better than anyone. You used to believe in this more than any reaper I've ever met.”
“I know.”
“Death gives life meaning. Without endings, nothing matters. Those areyourwords. I've heard you recite them to yourself.”
