The man in the black cloak sat nursing his plate.
He was licking his fingertip and scooping up the few remaining pastry crumbs when she came back from the kitchen carrying more mince pies. “There’s more if you want” she says, with a cheery smile.
He waved an arm. “No. This is fine; delicious as usual.” He was thin and very pale, but he had flesh… not at all usual considering his calling. He was sitting at the dining table with a long scythe laying across his lap. He said “How long have we been doing this?”
She returned the pies, came back and sat across from him. She thought for a moment. “Must be five years, maybe more. Why do you ask?”
“Oh! I don’t know, five years of calling every second Tuesday of the month. It’s a pattern. Amazing that it’s never been noticed.”
She leaned forward and patted his hand. “I do so love your visits. They mean so much to me. After dear Reginald passed on I was left completely on my own, what with both my girls living overseas with their own lives to lead, there was simply no family left. Bingo once a week is a blessing I suppose, but your visits make it all worthwhile.” She sighed and added with a sudden frown “I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble.”
He scratched the white flesh of his nose with a long fingernail. “No. It’s not that.”
“What then, somethings troubling you.”
“Well, you are getting on now, one hundred and three I believe.”
“One hundred and two actually.”
“Oh! Sorry. One hundred and two.”
“One of these visits won’t necessarily be on a second Tuesday and won’t be to spoil myself with your mince pies.” He nodded. “They are very good you know.”
She beamed. “Oh! Thank you. You’re very kind.”
He went on. “I’ll be here to perform my official duty. It has to happen sometime. You’ve had, what, four close calls?”
“Four, yes.”
“Yes. Well, I can bend the rules from time to time; in your case more so, but eventually…”
She patted his hand again. “Yes, I know dear, but we don’t have to dwell on that until the time comes do we?”
He shrugged. “No. I suppose not.”
“Now. Are you quite sure you wouldn’t like another helping.”
He shook his head and stood up. “No. I’m running a little behind. I should get going.”
He walked to the front door. As she opened it she asked, “Next time? What will it be next time?”
He shouldered his scythe and smiled just as his veneer of flesh disappeared and his skeletal aspect returned. Passing through the door she could just make out a croak of words.
“Next time… pies.”