Page 43 of How to Survive Your Own Death

“The appointment cannot be changed.”

“Really? Because the time keeps changing. Either death is wibbly-wobbly or management doesn’t know shit.”

A man heading toward the subway entrance gave her a concerned glance.

She rolled her eyes. Yeah, yeah. Whatever. A woman ranting to herself on the streetcorner. Classic. Now he had a story to tell at the office about his wild lunch break.

Before she could turn her ire back on Bazel, she saw the soul.

A man approached the subway entrance, his head down and eyes focused on his phone screen. A golden aura trailed after him, lingering before eventually fading.

“What if he doesn’t have to die?” Geri asked.

“The appointment cannot be changed,” Bazel repeated. “Or ignored.”

As the man passed, she reached out and brushed her fingers down his arm. He didn’t notice and proceeded to head toward the subway.

A woman pushing a stroller approached from the opposite direction. The baby threw out a yellow stuffed duck. She paused to retrieve the plushie. “You do that again and you’re going to lose your Quackers forever, and you don’t want that, do you?”

In one breath, the world slowed. The man, eyes still fixed on his phone, kicked one of the stroller’s wheels and stumbled forward. The phone went sailing. With arms outstretched, he tumbled down the subway stairs.

Geri flinched, wishing she could scrub away the sound of the man’s surprised shout as he fell.

In the next breath, the world returned to normal speed. The woman held the yellow duck to her chest in surprise. “Sir, are you all right? Sir?”

“Of course I’m not all right,” the man complained, standing next to Geri. He was pale, like an image projected on a screen. The once lovely golden aura was not gone. He rubbed his hands and his wrists, as if testing for pain. “That was some fall. I thought it’d hurt a lot worse. I don’t feel a thing.”

“It didn’t hurt because I took your soul,” she explained.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t take my soul.”

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed my companion.” With a flourish, she swept her hand toward Bazel. The man did a double take and stumbled backward in surprise. “You died, sweetie. I’m sorry.”

“But—”

“It shouldn’t have happened,” she said, throwing a glare at Bazel. If she had simply shouted for the man to watch out, would he still be alive? Could she have spared herself from witnessing another death?

“I need to see. I need to be certain,” the man said.

Bazel moved in front of the man, essentially blocking his path to the subway stairs. “I cannot allow that.”

The color drained from the man’s face, what little color he had.

By this time the woman with the stroller was on the phone with emergency services to report the accident. Someone ran down the steps to check on the fallen man. It was becoming increasingly busy and would be very crowded soon.

“It’s time for you to move on,” Geri said, and took out the letter opener.

“What happens next?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She slashed the air, creating a glowing tear.

“Oh. I see.” He took a hesitant step toward the tear, then another.

By the third step, he was gone.

“It doesn’t seem right to stand by and do nothing,” she said.

“An appointment cannot be changed,” he replied. Perhaps if he had said it with a hint of weariness or frustration, like a cog caught in the machinations of something beyond comprehension, but no. He used that condescending, lecturing tone, the one that made her instantly want to fight.