The Grim Grim Reaper

The couple creeped into the abortion clinic, the woman looking down, avoiding eye contact with anyone. The man made a beeline toward the reception desk, dragging his girlfriend along.

They toiled through the mundane check-in process and took a seat in the waiting area. There were six other women awaiting their dates with destiny by checking social media on their phones or staring blankly at nothing.

The man surveyed the room and noticed an odd character leaning up against a wall that led to restrooms. The odd one was dressed as the Grim Reaper, wearing a classic black, tattered robe, a hood covering most of his skeletal face, and a rusted scythe.

"Check out that guy?" the man snickered and nudged his girlfriend. "I thought protesters needed to be a certain distance away from this place."

"I don't see anything," she shrugged and turned her attention back to her phone. Her name was called, and she slumped over to the help that guided her through a creaky door. The man waited outside with eyes locked on the costumed man.

The Grim Reaper was taken aback by being stared at and sat beside the man.

"You can see me?" the Angel of Death rasped. The man nodded with a 'jokes over' roll of the eyes.

"If you see me, you were meant to see me," Mr. Death alerted and grabbed the man by his unsleeved arm. The brown hair on the man's arm turned white, and his eyes widened as sweat beaded his forehead.

"Don't worry. I am not here for you."

"You're here for the fetuses?" the man gulped in disbelief and mentally checking his sanity.

"Unfortunately," the Grim Reaper uttered under a cloud of somber weariness.

"But...this is your job."

"Stupid people meeting their doom doing stupid death-defying stunts, that's where the cheap thrills are. Not this," the Grim Reaper lamented, digging the end of his scythe into the high trafficked, stained carpet. "Goodness, they don't even get a chance to live on the outside," the death worker continued, his bony chin grazing his chest.

The man sat in silence, muted by Mr. Death's louder silence. He pondered the Grim Reaper's sentiments, the fact that only he could see him, and swallowed audibly. "She is in there to get the first pill. The rest are taken at home. There may still be a chance," the man offered just over a whisper.

"I hope I don't need to pay a visit to your home in the very near future," the Grim Reaper replied, got up, and walked back towards the other side of the waiting area.