[Continued. To start at the beginning, click here.]
Visibly shaken,
his pulse a staccato beat at his throat, Santo closed his eyes and rubbed the
scruff of his beard. He mumbled something the reaper couldn’t hear, but then
again, he didn’t need to hear it. They all prayed at this point.
After several deep
breaths, Santo opened his eyes again and focused on the framed picture, once
more positioned on the table. The image of a jubilant Santo with dark,
sparkling eyes and a wide, dimpled smile looked back from the photograph.
Wrapped around him from behind was a female with the same brown skin and
velvety gaze. She laughed at the camera.
The reaper
remembered her. He’d been the one to take her when her time had come. She and
her baby had tasted of sweetness and light, and as he’d passed them through to
their next destination, he’d been strangely moved by a sense of loss.
He frowned with
distaste at the memory. He blamed another woman for the unwanted emotion.
Roxanne Love. Before her, he’d never cared for the souls he’d reaped. Only that
they’d abounded.
He watched Santo
as the human scowled at the righted photograph. The reaper could see the memory
of the last few moments replaying in Santo’s mind, in his expression.
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