"I need ten more years."

"Why should I grant that? You've wasted so much time already."

"But I've found my purpose. My child..."

"Is better off without you. You aren't willing to give her what she needs."

"I give her everything I have. Everything I am."

"Are you willing to give her your life?"

"Why would I need to do that?"

"Because she's in my appointment book for next week."

"Why?!"

"Why doesn't matter. Are you willing?"

"Who will care for her?"

"I will."

"Why would you want a child?"

"Because my heart aches. I am tired of being alone."

     With an all-mighty cry, he sank to his knees. Directly in front stood a cloaked figure, dark hair cascading off its shoulders. Its face, veiled by its garb, retained features neither feminine nor masculine.

     "Please," he whimpered for the Who-Knows-How-Many-eth time, "I swear...I'll be good."

     The figure stood unconvinced. "I know I wasn't before, but I mean it."

     It held out a hand, reaching for his forearm and tugging firmly.

     "At least ten years? I'll volunteer, I'll go to church! I'll start talking to Sam again!" he struggled frantically as he was dragged through the door, "One year? Please!"

Let me give you an opportunity to be free. Did you grow up to wanting to be death? Spare me, you will not have to be death. Remove the worn, heavy cloak from your body. Show your face. Let me live because I have not. Death can not steal something that has no life to take. I have not lived. If you want to punish me, let me fall in love with this world like you fell in love with death. It is only then I will have anything to take, and only then can I die.