[ WP ] You 're in bed with a terrible cold when you look up to see Death sitting in chair on the other side of the room . He is reading a thick book when he looks up and says , `` Do n't worry . Take your time . I just started this ... . ''

Mrs. Addington turned over in bed and blearily opened her eyes. It was still dark outside the window, and her head was clogged up with a cold. She turned to her nightstand to feel for the thermos of hot tea, and saw at the other side of the room Death, seated in her armchair, reading a thick book. 
 
 As her hand paused in mid-air, Death looked up and caught her eye. `` Do n't worry,'' it said. `` Take your time. I just started this.'' 
 
 Mrs. Addington let out a gasp that turned into a coughing fit, and grabbed a tissue just in time to hock out a wad of phlegm. `` It's just a cold!'' she gasped out between coughs. `` It's not pneumonia or nothing! No one dies of a cold!'' 
 
 `` Well, that's untrue,'' Death said, turning a page. `` People die of insignificant things all the time. But as I said, there's no rush here. Please, do take your time.'' 
 
 Mrs. Addington dropped the wadded up tissue into the wastebin, and took a sip of tea from the thermos. She scowled. It had gone cold. For a moment she considered going down and making herself a hot batch of tea, but her limbs ached too much beneath the covers. Her maid, Esther, had no doubt gone home for the night. Her son would be visiting tomorrow - she frowned, was it tomorrow? He came visiting every Tuesday and Thursday, and today was.... Mrs. Addington lay her throbbing head back down on the pillow. It did n't matter very much. He'd probably be the one to find her body eventually. Ester would n't be able to get in without a key. 
 
 She sat back up and felt for the lamp switch. She clicked it back and forth, once, twice, and it it did nothing. Her eyes had adjusted by now, though, and even through the dark she could Death was still there, in the corner of her room. Bother. She'd been hoping it was a dream. `` What is that book you're reading?'' she said politely. 
 
 `` Oh, this?'' Death held up the cover for her to see. `` *Infinite Jest*, by David Foster Wallace. I thought I'd try to catch up on modern literature.'' 
 
 `` I think I've heard of him,'' she said. She pulled the quilt up to her neck. It was pleasantly warm. She supposed there could be worst ways to die. `` Bit of a weird one, was n't he? Did n't he end up killing himself?'' 
 
 `` Did he?'' Death said. By the tilt of its skull she thought it might be getting slightly annoyed. `` I'm afraid I would n't know. Just picked this book out largely at random, to be honest.'' 
 
 `` But you're Death!'' she said, before she could stop herself. `` Surely you... surely you would have met him.'' 
 
 `` I've met a lot of people. Ca n't remember them all, I'm afraid.'' 
 
 Mrs. Addington settled back into bed, keeping her eyes on Death. She wished she'd had more interest in books in life. At least then she'd be able to make conversation. Who would have thought that Death would be a reader? She tugged at a loose thread on the quilt and glanced out the window. Still utterly black out there, no sign of dawn. She coughed quietly into her fist, and cleared her throat. 
 
 `` So... is it a good book, then?'' 
 
 Death set the book down on its lap. `` Frankly, I ca n't tell. Do n't understand a word of it, so far. That's the problem with being Death. Busy, busy, busy. No time to stop and really appreciate life.'' It fanned the book open and flipped through the pages and sighed. `` Perhaps I should have started with something simpler. So out of touch.'' 
 
 Mrs. Addington felt a thin thread of indignation begin worming its way through her fingers, up her arm. If she had been taken quietly in her sleep, that would have been one thing. But to wake her up in the middle of the night, and then to not have the decency to get things over with quickly - well! To just sit around, wasting her time! `` It's cruel,'' she said. `` It's cruel, that's what it is. To torment a poor old lady like me. You may say, I've had more than enough time on this earth already, and it's my fault for not living my life to the fullest. Well, all right, then! But that's no reason to torment me like this!'' 
 
 Death stood from the chair, its hands raised in front of it. `` Ma'am! I assure you, this is not - I told you, quite clearly, at the start, that there was no rush at all. And I did mean it. If I'm disturbing you, I'm quite sorry, but you must understand...'' 
 
 `` A likely story!'' she snapped. `` With you being'busy, busy, busy,' what about that, eh? You do n't have anything more important to be doing at all? Nothing better to do that sit around and hover over an old woman like a vulture?'' 
 
 `` Well, no,'' Death said, its shoulders raised in a hapless shrug. `` There's nothing else to do at the moment.'' 
 
 `` What are you...'' Mrs. Addington shook her head in frustration, and turned again to the window. Still a perfect pane of black. As if there was nothing out there at all. As if the sun had been blotted out. `` Good heavens,'' she whispered. `` D'you mean... are they dead? Is everyone else dead?'' 
 
 `` Not everyone,'' Death said. `` There's you. There are a few more, scattered here and there, just in case you did n't feel like living. You're the closest, at the moment. But if I'm truly disturbing you, I'm sure I could arrange to be with someone else for the meantime.'' 
 
 Mrs. Addington's head was spinning. Between Death, and being woken up in the middle of the night, and this news, and the cold, she could barely keep her head straight. `` Was it those idiots in the government?'' she said. `` Did they finally blow us all up?'' 
 
 `` I could n't tell you,'' said Death. `` I've never followed politics. That's... that's the whole reason I'm doing this, honestly. All those years watching the world go by, reaping, reaping, reaping, never a moment's rest to stop and smell the roses. And now that it's all over, I'm going to have to turn off the lights and lock everything up behind me. I thought I'd at least try and get through a book before then.'' 
 
 Mrs. Addington sat silently in bed, wondering how long she had been asleep. Long enough for the tea in her thermos to go cold, she realized, long enough for the electricity to burn out. For a moment she considered throwing back the covers, leaping out of bed and running, down the stairs as fast as her old legs would take her, throwing open the front door and streaking out into the ruins of the world. There had to be something left out there. There had to be. 
 
 `` We could start a book club,'' she heard herself speaking. `` I never did much reading while I was alive, either. Might as well start. We could help each other get through that book, together.'' 
 
 Death settled back into her armchair, turning the book over in its hands, regarding her with deep and empty eyes. `` I think I'd like that.''
