“Excuse me,” the man said, “I’m here to see Mr. Henderson.”
Rebecca looked up, startled. She hadn’t heard anyone come in. In front of her stood a tall, thin, elderly gentleman wearing a black suit that had been out of fashion since before the 20th century had even begun.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “Mr. Henderson has passed on.”
“What?” exclaimed the man, taking out a gold pocketwatch and examining it closely. “That’s impossible!”
“I’m sorry sir,” Rebecca said sympathetically, “He passed on just a few minutes ago, in fact.”
The man sighed and put his watch away. “They just get more and more unreliable, don’t they?”
“The doctors do the best they can, sir,” she said, shortly, a little offended.
“Yes, yes, I’m sure they do,” the man said distractedly, looking at something above and behind Rebecca’s head. “Ah, so you decided to show up anyway?”
Rebecca spun around in shock, but saw nobody. She turned back towards the man. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing,” the man said, grabbing at something in the air and depositing it in a small jar. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got another appointment. Sorry to bother you.”
He tipped his hat and walked out the door. Rebecca shrugged and went back to her paperwork.
Let’s give a warm welcome to my friend Taylor, who decided to join me in creating an unstoppable writing empire.