Ramtin found Death sitting in his kitchen.
“You’re early,” Ramtin said, moving towards the stove to start the kettle boiling.
“The door was locked,” Death said, sounding exasperated. “So I let myself in through the window.”
“I live at the top of a fifth floor walk-up, how …?” Ramtin stopped, remembering the answer.
“Death,” they both said at the same time. Ramtin could feel Death smiling from underneath the hood.
“You have a guess for today?” Death asked. The kettle started to wobble from the steam building up on the inside.
“You won’t shut up if I don’t.”
“Next Saturday, falling down my apartment stairs,” Ramtin guessed.
“Nope,” Death giggled.
“I find it odd that you know when and where everyone will die, but you can’t tell me if we as a collective species manage to solve... like climate change or make ourselves extinct by inaction.” Ramtin filled up two mugs before putting the kettle back on the stove.
“Nothing personal, just the nature of the job,” Death said, taking one of the offered mugs and dropping a large dollop of honey in it, next to the submerged teabag.
“You’re like waste removal.”
“Yeah, like that, but for souls.”
“Which afterlife do you take them to?” Ramtin asked.
“Nice try,” Death said.
The two of them sipped on their tea in silence. A short time later, Death showed himself out through the front door.
“See you next weekend,” Ramtin said.
“One way or the other,” Death chuckled.