(Emily arrives home; the door slams, her schoolbag thuds to the floor, and she sighs.)
Death: Hello. Emily: WHUH!? Death: I told you I’d see you again. Should I have been more specific? Everyone does see me in the end, after all - Emily: No, I got it, just... heck. I didn’t expect you so soon. Aren’t you busy? Death: HA! I’m always busy, that’s no matter. Emily: Isn’t it? Death: No, I want to know how you remember me. Emily: It’s not exactly a forgettable occasion. Death: But hardly anyone remembers me. Emily: How many people do you talk to? Death: Hardly any, but they add up over the millennia. And only little kids. Emily: Why? Death: Their parents – or whoever – ask me to, sometimes. If they’re really little, they forget all about it. Usually. Even though it’s... a big event.
-- Alt text: She was looking forward to having a minute to recover, but no