He took his cloak out of the dryer. It smelled of "clean laundry". Not bad, considering an hour ago it smelled like 151,000 corpses. Yes, that's right, he was a busy man.
That didn't mean that he didn't have time for a personal life though! He selected his best photos. His dark suit. His slim physique. He said in his profile that "life is a ride that can take you to the most unexpected places."
He received several right swipes. People were desperate to find love. They would even risk their lives for it.
There were so many dates with vacuous conversations. He would lose patience and touch them, striking them dead, just to shut them up.
Then he met Annabel. She had been named after the Edgar Allan Poe poem. Her skin was as pale as moonlight. Her long blonde hair cascaded down to her waist. She was waiflike and graceful. Her dark eyes danced with merriment when he introduced himself.
She said in her sexy low voice "You know, I have flirted with death many times, but never quite like this."
He was taken aback. How did she know? She saw right through his magical glamour. She smiled as he gaped at her.
"So, are we going to order, or what? Nice hoodie, by the way."
They ordered and the more time he spent with her at the table, the more smitten he became. She was, by far, the most interesting match he made.
Over the next several weeks they had a whirlwind romance. He spent every moment that he could with her, even though he could not touch her.
While he was falling in love, things changed a bit. Hikers who fell from mountaintops miraculously survived. Heart attacks, it seemed, were no longer fatal. The morticians grew nervous as the body counts diminished.
Death's boss finally had to have a talk with him. For all eternity he had never been reprimanded. Whenever he wanted to get some work done, his mind drifted to sweet Annabel's face. He was in the mood to write sonnets, to gaze into the darkness of her eyes, but no, not to harvest lives.
It had been 3 months. Thanks to Annabel, almost 4.5 million extra people remained on Earth. He tried to talk her into letting him touch her. He imagined how her sweet lips would taste against his fleshless mouth. He thought of how satisfying it would be to feel her tiny frame against him.
She always refused him. She was kind about it, but her answer was always no. He had grown desperate for her touch.
One night they were up very late, laughing and talking. She had fallen asleep on the couch, her golden hair draped over her pale frame. He stood over her. His bony hand reached toward her. He placed his hand on her soft cheek and pain seared through him.
He had expected her to die. He thought maybe they could spend eternity together. Instead, her eyes blazed. Her flesh disappeared before his eyes. She grabbed his scythe.
"As I said before, nice hoodie." She reached toward him and tore the cloak from him. He stood before her, exposed. He felt heat and pain sear through him before he turned to dust.
The next month was quite tragic. Accidents, terror attacks, and a terrible plague resulted in many more lives lost than usual.
