Collector of Souls
Her: “It’s good to see you.” Him: “I know it’s been awhile.” Her: “I heard you joined the army.” Him: “Yeah, that was a crazy ride.” Her: “I heard rumors in town. That you died over there...” Him: “You can’t believe rumors.” He knew she still cared. Her: “So, what kind of work do you do now?” Him: He held his breath, his thoughts screaming loud. Him: “I’m a collector of sorts.” Her: “A collector of what?” Him: “A collector of souls.” Her: “I doubt that very much.” Him: “You see that old black Buick? New haircut, new clothes? They’re part of the perks, of being a collector of souls.” She smiled an amused grin, and patted his chest. “If you say so, sweetheart. But you’ve traveled far and need your rest.” Him: “You don’t have to believe me. Maybe it’s better that way.” Her: “Oh, you never told me! How long can you stay?” He smiled a sad smile, put his hand on her back, “Not long I’m afraid.” It was time that he lacked. He kissed her forehead, saying, “I know you’ve been sick.” With tears