[ WP ] The pantheons of the world , in an effort to foster cooperation and understanding , have organized a soul exchange program .

`` Excuse me, ma'am.'' 
 
 Lena looks up. She's on a dock. It looks like the sun is almost setting. The water is dark and still. The man on the rowboat - actually it's more of a canoe, or maybe like a gondola? - is wearing flannel, denim, leather work boots. His eyes are wide. 
 
 `` Ma'am,'' he says. 
 
 `` Yes?'' Lena says. She takes a step back. 
 
 `` Are you ready to go?'' 
 
 He gestures to his boat-thing. Lena's eyes go as wide as his. 
 
 `` What?'' she says. `` Go where?'' 
 
 `` Down the river.'' 
 
 She brings her hands close to her chest. `` Why?'' 
 
 The man in the boat shakes his head. `` Because that's just what happens.'' 
 
 They stand. Looking at each other. Eyes wide. Watching. 
 
 Lena takes a step back. The man in the boat is no longer in the boat. He brings his oar out of the water. Holding it like a baseball bat. 
 
 `` You do n't really get a choice here.'' 
 
 Lena bows her head. The tears she wants to fall wo n't. She walks up to the boat, and steps in. She sits on the bench. 
 
 The man sits across from her, but she wo n't meet his eyes. 
 
 `` Ma'am, I know this might sound strange, but... do you have any change?'' 
 
 She looks at him now. `` Beg pardon?'' 
 
 `` It's customary to tip.'' 
 
 `` Is it? It's customary to tip the scary man with the boat?'' 
 
 `` That is the custom.'' 
 
 Lena sighs, and reaches for her purse. She ca n't find it. Looking back to the shore, she sees nothing. She looks down at her feet. 
 
 `` My purse must have come loose when I got hit-'' She stops short. Remebers. Flashing lights. Men in masks. Screaming. It hurts. 
 
 She looks down again. The tears come this time. 
 
 `` I take it that's a no. All right then. I do n't like making exceptions, though.'' The man grabs the oar, and pushes them off. The boat barely breaks the surface of the water. 
 
 Lena is sobbing into her hands. 
 
 `` What you've got to remember right now, is that all this is temporary.'' He sniffs the air, makes a small correction with the oar. 
 
 `` What?'' Lena says. 
 
 `` It's temporary. This. Life. Everything. Temporary.'' He's looking out, at something Lena ca n't see yet. 
 
 `` I'm dead.'' Saying it hurts less than she thought it would, but it still hurts. Another sob shakes her. 
 
 `` I would n't worry about that, I were you.'' The man dips his oar in, barely making a splash.
