You 're moments late to literally everything . You watch busses pull away as you run behind them , girls get asked out as you walk up to them , and you have never caught a green light . One day though , you arrive on time . [ WP ]

I looked into his eyes... Or well, where his eyes should have been. Two great sockets. Inside of which you could see the universe. 
 
 Was just enough to distract me from looking at the bones. The skull. 
 
 `` So'', he spoke at last, wiping his eye. `` Tell me, Deryk, about your life. Was it good?'' I felt the feeling of being in a cemetery, visiting my dad. Where all the pain has gone and all that left is a serene, mediative peace. 
 
 `` Your Him are n't you?'' 
 
 `` God?'' A laugh. The sound of tombstones grinding against each other. 
 
 `` I meant The Grim Reaper actually.'' 
 
 `` Oh good. You do already know me then.'' He laughed. A tired little laugh. 
 
 `` Why?'' 
 
 `` Well, if you recall correctly, you were in a car accident.'' 
 
 `` No. I meant you. Why do you do this?'' 
 
 `` Someone's got too,'' he arched his head down, `` I mean, I only enjoy this part. Hearing about what people do with the wonderful gift of life. Tell me Deryk. Yours. How was your life? We do n't have much time before you have to move on to your next task.'' 
 
 `` My next task?'' 
 
 `` Not much time Deryk, tell me.'' 
 
 So I told him everything. The memories in my head were clearer than at any other time. There was no block. No thinking about if events happened one way or another. 
 
 I told him how I was a late birth. My mother's little miracle, and the stage for my life. Always late. Always. 
 
 `` Well, there was one thing, like me, you were on time for,'' and he extended his bony finger to the empty hour glass between us, right next to another one,. with just a few sands left in it. `` Tell me,'' and he leaned in close, `` what do you mean by always late.'' 
 
 I told him about my Christmas when I was four years old. I want you to try something. I want you to picture where you were on your earliest Christmas. I want you to picture your family's faces. The room. The seats. What people looked like. Where people sat. What colour were your walls? 
 
 Are you imagining your family home? Are you imaging it as it was then, or as it was the last time you saw it? Because when I spoke, I remembered, for the first time while recalling the memory in my late years, how it was. 
 
 My Dad was on the rocking chair. I was playing with my new Furby, and throughly annoying my mother with it. There was a small shop around the corner, soon to close. The owners were Pakistan, and thus, were life savers every Christmas. My Dad asked me to go around and pick up some Tinfoil. So off I went, and arrived just, just, as it shut. 
 
 `` Does n't sound too bad,'' said the Grim. 
 
 Then I told him about how I stood at the front of the shop for a while, knowing that because I did n't walk fast enough I had just ruined Christmas Dinner for everyone. I stayed there for far longer than I would have done if I had been on time. And I started wandering back. Looking at my watch, I realised I was also going to be late to feed my Furby. 
 
 When I walked through the door, I found my mum frantic on the phone. A few moments before I walked in, my dad had a heart attack. 
 
 `` Maybe you could say you were just in time, to not see me take him'' The Grim offered a hand. I took it and squeezed. 
 
 I continued. How I was late for the date with Sarah. How I was n't watching my, seemingly useless through my life experiences watch, and stood her up by five whole minutes. How she decided to go home. How I read in the news paper the next day she was hit by a driver shortly after. 
 
 `` Sarah Powell?'' Asked the Grim. And I nodded. `` A lovely, beautiful soul. I loved our chat! But hmm... interesting...'' 
 
 `` Why?'' 
 
 `` She was actually meant to choke to death,'' he said, `` weird fluctuation. Sometimes happens. You actually gave her a little bit longer to live. Tell me more.'' 
 
 So I told him about the time I was late for catching the bus. Well, one particular time. Without fail, I always missed the bus. But this one time, I missed it because I bumped into a woman. I was running, praying that this would be the one time I could catch it as I had a job interview. 
 
 And I ran into her. And we fell over. While she was shouting at me, we heard this noise in the distance as the bus stopped. Stopped because it hit a car. And I told the Grim about how I watched, as she ran out to help, and straight into the path of a car. 
 
 `` Ohhh, I remember bus. She was meant to die there. She was meant to be on that bus. Deryk, do you know what this is?'' He pointed to the other hour glass. The one that just still had a tiny bit of sand left. 
 
 `` No?'' 
 
 `` This is mine,'' the Grim sighed. `` You ARE interesting, but you are taking too long. I want you to tell me one last thing before I go.'' 
 
 `` What?'' 
 
 `` What was the last time you were late?'' 
 
 So I told him about my own death. How I was racing down the street, trying, oh god trying just this once to get to the lights before they turned again. I wanted to get to my job. If I was going to be late again, they would sack me. I knew it. And I liked this one I got to the lights, just as they turned red, and went fuck it and... well.. 
 
 `` Here I am,'' I said. I glanced at the hour glass, just a few sands in it. 
 
 `` You never did like that job, did you?'' Asked the Grim. 
 
 `` Not really.'' 
 
 `` Well, I hope you like your new one a lot more. And please, carry on being late for everything. People deserve just a little bit longer.'' 
 
 And with those last words, I was staring into nothingness. Where the Grim once stood, was now just an outline of a robe. I looked down the table, and where the Grim's hour glass stood, was a piece of paper. I looked over it, and read the title. 
 
 `` Contract for Deryk Fisher, appointed as: Grim Reaper''
