a true story
Death came to me in a dream last night.
He carried no scythe, wore no cloak; he looked like Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo in the TV show NCIS.
Death said, “You know why I’m here, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m going to die.”
“Not tonight,” he said.
I was confused and furled my brow.
“February 14, 2011, 5:46 a.m.,” he said with a wearily smile.
“So, what am I to do with the rest of my life?” I asked.
Death laughed ruefully and poofed in a wisp of smoke.