Death had been following her for about six months. Not like a feeling of dread, or a bad medical diagnosis. But Death. The person. Or thing. Or being. Whatever Death was in a physical form, Death was following her.
She was taking it very calmly. Probably because she had sort of eased into her awareness of the situation. The first time she saw Death she was driving down the road. She looked in her rearview mirror and there she was, driving the Escalade behind her. This time Death was clearly masquerading as a woman. Long hair, lovely blouse, manicured nails on the steering wheel. Cadaverous mask of a face staring back at her. At the time she decided it was a weird trick of light.
Really weird because the face didn't go away when the driver changed lanes and pulled up next to her at the next stop. Well, it did change, it got more skull like and less just newly dead looking. It was a definitely dead look. But she still wrote it off as a weird trick of light. Or possibly something the woman had done on purpose. Who knew anymore what people were doing with their makeup.
The next time she saw him, and it was definitely a he this time, was at the gym. She had just finished a really tough Zumba class and was heading for the water fountain when she spotted Death at the squat rack. Really good form in his lift, but definitely a skull for a face. She shook her head and got her drink. The class must have taken more out of her than she had realized.
She didn't see Death again for a few weeks and had just about forgotten about seeing Death at all. Then she and her husband were at the grocery store and she saw the ugliest dog. One of those so ugly it was cute dogs, but didn't quite make it to cute. She asked her husband what breed he thought it was and he said, "Looks like a chihuahua to me." She looked again, it didn't look like any chihuahua she had ever seen before. "With that face?" Her husband looked again, "Yeah, looks like a chihuahua." She took a picture of the dog and decided to post it online to get their friend's opinions. Later when she looked at the picture she could see it was clearly a chihuahua. "Did the sun make it look different? Like highlight a lot more gray in its fur?" She asked her husband, showing him the picture, "Nope, it looked just like this."
From that point on she noticed Death at least once a day. She decided it was like when you buy a new car. You never notice all of the other blue cars until you buy one and then they are everywhere. Once she gave in and realized she saw Death she realized Death was following her. She decided that it was her subconscious telling her that something was wrong with her health. Trying to get her to go to the doctor. She made a doctor's appointment. If she was going to get a warning like this she knew it was good to heed it. Maybe she could keep Death at a little distance.
So she had a full checkup. And got a perfectly clean bill of health. Physically at least. She was debating the call to the psychiatrist. She knew that there were probably drugs she could take to help her with her delusions, but did she want to? After all if you know you are crazy and it's not really affecting you then is it really crazy?
She thought about this a lot. Was it worse to go crazy and not know it or be fully aware of it like she was? And if she was having these delusions was she having others? And again, did it matter?
When she told her husband she had been seeing things he suggested an eye appointment. Then when she explained what it was she was seeing he did not agree with her that it didn't really matter. So she went to the psychiatrist. Who, much to her surprise, did not prescribe drugs. Instead she suggested that it might be a stress condition. So the treatment, for now, was to take notes. Mark down when she saw Death and where. How she was feeling at the time. Look for a common feeling or situation.
There wasn't one.
Or there wasn't one she could find.
She saw Death when she was tired. She saw Death when she was well rested. She saw Death at the grocery store, at the movies, picking up her kids from school. Death was male, Death was female, Death was young, Death was old, Death was human, Death was animal, one memorable time Death was an entire flock of birds. At least once a day, Death. And then today before her appointment she saw Death by her doctor's office. When her psychiatrist asked about the last time she saw Death she told her, just now, on the street. She described what Death was wearing, how she had her hair styled. Her doctor listened and took notes.
The next day her doctor called her and asked her to come in and please bring her notebook. She had never had an emergency psychiatric call before. Maybe she had found some sort of pattern after all? Maybe there was a cure? Instead there were police officers.
Seems like doctor patient confidentiality goes out the window when there is possibility you are a criminal.
The woman she had seen leaving the doctor's office had been a patient. Had been because she had died last night. Under mysterious circumstances and where were you between the hours of and who can verify that? She and her husband had been at the movies. And then a late bite to eat. A phone call to him was the first verification and a check of receipts was the next. She was in the clear. But they still took her notebook.
Her doctor apologized, but explained that she had no choice really. When the police questioned her she had to tell them about the sighting the day before. One patient seeing another and calling them Death. She understood didn't she?
She just shrugged. She was more concerned with the fact that the quiet officer, the one who she assumed would play bad cop if her alibi hadn't checked out had given her one last look as he left. One last look with his empty cavernous eyes. When she saw the news later about the armed robbery she knew who the police officer was that got shot. And it all finally made sense.
Death hadn't been following her, she had been following it.
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