|a_note_unsaid (a_note_unsaid) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2015-02-27 01:49:00
|Entry tags:||death, heroin|
Who: Death and Open
What: Even Death likes coffee
Where: Random coffeeshop A
She didn't know where she'd heard it once, but there was a prhase that said Death never took a day off. This much, she knew was true. Some tended to think if they saw her, then no one was dying. Quite the opposite was true, in fact. Hundreds of people died every day, and it didn't stop because she sat down. Some simply didn't require her, believing more in The Concept then something physical, and others believed in their own fragments, taking comfort out of that.
So even with fragments of her out doing her job, she still had time to sit and drink some coffee. She didn't need it, no more then she needed the pastry she was occasionally nibbling on, but it was good for appearances and that much she knew how to do. It gave her moments to observe the mortals, to watch how they sped from one place to the other, not quite sitting down and enjoying what precious little time they had.
She'd never quite understand that. But they weren't built with her patience, or her knowledge. So perhaps she shouldn't judge quite so quickly.
So she watched, and listened. And sometimes smiled at things she heard despite people not knowing what she was smiling about.