The waiting room was cheerful and noisy with chatter. An elderly man watched one of the two doors in the room expectantly, while a teenager sat in the corner twirling her hair with her fingers, looking bored. A child played with a small dog, and a young woman with dark curls and large brown eyes surveyed the room curiously.
The walls were white, and curtains fluttered at viewless windows where the light filtered through. She knew she had heard things about what this would be like, but she couldn’t remember. She didn’t even remember her own name, though she knew she had one, but none of that seemed to matter now.
She saw the young man at the desk, who was gesturing to people in the room, and handing them a slip of paper before opening the second door and ushering them through. She walked over to him and struck up a conversation. She asked his name though she had forgotten her own.
The young man smiled and said, “My friends call me Mort.”
She asked him what it was like to sit at the desk each day, and meet different kinds of people. “Oh, I know very little about them. It doesn’t matter who they are, and where they’re from. I just hand over the slip that appears on my table when it’s their turn and see that they go through the door. Some go through immediately, while others have to wait. The old man has asked to wait for his wife. It’s been two days. She should be here any moment now, and they’ll go through together.
“So what’s on the other side?” she asked, though she knew she would find out soon enough.
“I’ve always wondered,” said Mort. “I’ve heard the slips come in different colours, but I only see white. I’m not even allowed to ask. I just see that they go through. You see, there are some rules even I, Death, can’t cheat.”
In response to the Daily Prompt Cheat