Words From the Dying

“You seem to be enjoying yourself”

A voice behind me spoke, leaving the world quite in its completion. Only now am I noticing the lack of people in the streets. No vehicles or even sounds from the busy road two blocks over. As I stopped and turned around, I saw it—or him this time around. He may look new, but I know, in his eyes. They are always the same. Too dark.

“Do you know the cost of keeping a soul past its expiration?”

He was now beside me, his arm linked with mine, and we began to walk. Sounds that should be present road in quietly on the breeze, sounding as if they were the station playing from my neighbor’s apartment television he left on through the night.

He, rather it, is staring at me. I know it; I felt it as I begged for my life with that man’s hands around my throat, begging for any other ending.

“Well, no matter, a deal is a deal, and your end is due.”

I don’t look at it. I know it seems menacing, or has taken on such a façade, but I am not scared. Its eyes feel warm. Like a way out. As they did then and do now.

“I know, but when you have rung my soul dry of any prominence or personhood, may I end? Truly end?”

With my last words, I look up into those eyes. We look and, for a moment, understand. Those eyes looking away are now focusing on the path ahead before assuring me.

“Certainly”

With that, I smile. And as I feel myself release, painlessly, tears fall. I left to watch myself continue to walk ahead. As I stand still, entangled it and me.