who. Death and [OPEN] what. In the mood for a quick log. So. A quick log. Maybe some lunch will be had. Hanging out of some kind. when. Today where. NY
It was a hazy afternoon, warm enough to make a person break into a sweat after just a few minutes of strolling down the street. Death didn't have to worry about that sort of thing. The heat touched her and she could feel it, but she wasn't moral and she wasn't human. She didn't sweat. Her hair didn't frizz because of the moderate humidity. She felt things in her own Endless way. And, as she walked down the wide avenue, she relished the feel of the warm breeze.
She was humming quietly to herself, a cheerful rendition of "Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head" just loud enough that people who passed her could hear. There was a top hat on her head, an umbrella hanging from the crook of her bent arm, and a bright smile on her face.
Death winked at a stranger, an older fellow whose eye had been following her as soon as he'd spotted her. At the same time, she felt the tug of a dying soul down the street. She was at once in two places, taking the hand of a dying middle aged woman and walking down the sunny street. Death decided suddenly that life was good. Even for those who weren't technically living.