Death sat on the raised step with his head in his hands. The blue door behind him outlined the black robe with the empty hood, and his scythe had been laid across the gravel path before him. He saw nothing, the hollow pain of forgotten emotions holding him captive. Time – his partner in crime – hadn’t stopped, hadn’t even slowed to reflect on the damage they caused together. But Death couldn’t help it, sometimes it got to him, sometimes he forgot why he was doing all of this. Like now.

Lost to the world, he was startled when the sound of a gentle crunch announced a visitor to his grief. He looked up and saw a young child walking slowly towards him, uncertain in her steps.

‘Hello,’ she said softly. Only a few paces away now and Death could see the mud stain on her yellow T-shirt, the deep youth in her eyes, and the fearless sorrow she felt for this stranger. ‘Don’t be sad.’

She sat down next to him, her clothes shining a pale light on his own sombre dress, and carefully nudged the scythe with her foot. It scraped on the stones and she stopped.

‘Mummy says everything will be okay and she gives me kisses on my ouchies.’ She didn’t say anything else but took his arm and leaned against him as only a child can. A few moments passed and, although he had expected to feel worse with her appearance, Death didn’t feel so bad anymore. He stood up with the scythe in one hand and the little girl taking the other. She led him to the end of the garden path and waved a loving goodbye before returning to her front door and the tragic fairness of life.