[ WP ] There is no singular Grim Reaper . When someone dies , there are dozens of people they talk to : one tells them what happened to them , one explains the afterlife , one judges them , etc . You are the second person they speak with .

`` Next! ``, I shouted right as I rang the small bell on my desk. 
 
 The plain white door across the room creaked open. The next heartbeat, a young man came bursting, *tripping* into my office. He awkwardly recomposed himself and started walking towards my desk, fiddling his thumbs in his hands. 
 
 I chuckled and called, `` Close the door, son.'' 
 
 The teenager stopped a moment, scrambled back to the door then started again towards my desk. His bearing and expression suggested that he was lost. 
 
 I smiled and gestured at his untied shoelace. `` That's what got you killed after all. Take a seat.'' 
 
 `` Uh'', the young man breathed. `` I just talked to the Grim Reaper-'' 
 
 `` The first Reaper. We are many.'' I interjected. 
 
 `` Right.. he told me I was dead. That ca n't be true, can it?'' The kid sounded like he was heavily disappointed by the afterlife, or perhaps his living life. 
 
 `` You are, son.'' I put up his file for him to see. The file was stamped with his date and time of death. Today, three hours ago. `` You went out quite young, Robert.'' 
 
 He dipped his head as if trying to wrap his head around the idea. 
 Finally he shook his head and spoke, `` Soo, there are many Reapers?'' 
 
 `` Yes'', I said simply. `` There are about three dozens of us, and I'm just the second!'' 
 
 `` What do you do?'' 
 
 `` The first Reaper welcomes your soul into the afterlife. Other Reapers judge you for your sins, others show you your life and its possible outcomes, and the rest just record your files.'' 
 
 Robert nodded. A slow, wavy movement of his head. `` And you? What do you do?'' He was clearly nervous and all his words were coming off of him slowly. 
 
 I sighed. `` George is n't doing his job again, it seems. The first Reaper is supposed to tell you everything, the system, our roles, everything.'' 
 
 Robert bit the inside of his lip and looked around the empty office. Again he asked, `` What do you do?'' 
 
 I leaned back on my office chair and put my hands behind my head, interlocking them. `` I make sure every soul stays, comfortable.'' 
 
 He seemed to fall into ease with my statement. I sat up straight again and leaned my arms on the table, keeping my fingers interlocked. `` Rob, what do you remember about your life?'' I always found amusement in watching the souls squirm in their seats as they try to remember their lives. 
 
 `` Everything, actually. ``, he said sadly. `` My parents, my little sister, school. I even remember how I died..'', his voice trailed off and he swung his right foot outward, making the untied shoelaces dance and whip around. 
 
 I chuckled, then suddenly stopped. Something was n't right. `` Son, you say you remember.. *everything*?'' 
 
 `` Yeah, why?'' 
 
 `` That ca n't be right'', I muttered. Usually, souls only remember their names after they've died. Perhaps this kid's memories were n't fading as quick. `` Do you know your birthdate, Robert?'' 
 
 `` March 14, 1997'', he said without pause. 
 
 I checked his file, the dates matched. `` Right.'' I stood and stretched. 
 
 `` Wh-where are you going?'' Robert stood as well, and his head followed me as I walked toward the door. When I reached the door, I turned back toward the young man. Immediately I noticed his shoelaces tying themselves together. 
 
 `` Stay here. I'm going to do my job.'' 
 
 ______ 
 Edit: typo
