Existence Denied

CHAPTER 3

The resounding knock on the office door startled Jared out of his dreary musing of the past. He clicked off the monitoring screen with the damning display of his death status. What status? he corrected himself. According to all I ever learned, I don't exist. Until he decided what to do and how to handle it, he did not want anyone to get an inkling of his findings.

"Enter," he called out as he snatched up a sheaf of notes on his desk and pretended to read. It wasn't until the door opened and a blue-haired young woman poked her head inside and eyed Jared with a curious stare that he realized he held the papers upside down. Muttering under his breath, Jared dropped the offending papers on the desk and stood. "Can I help you?"

The woman opened the door wide and traipsed into his office, the black folder she carried held tight to her breast. The blue hair, bright and full of color, contrasted with the navy suit and black blouse. She seemed older than he originally thought. He found himself wondering, did anyone in this department wear any color but black and blue?

She eyed him from head to toe with undisguised curiosity, wrinkling her long nose at his green pants and matching shirt, which did not match the somber attire of his office mates. After her initial appraisal, her eyes fixated on his shoulder-length dreads. The woman studied him as if he were a specimen under a microscope.

"Can I help you?" he repeated, wondering if waving his hands in her face would capture her attention. 

She turned her gaze to his face and pursed her lips. "You don't look like a high-level Reaper Inquisitor," she said, her voice low and deeper than he'd imagined. "You look more like one of those young hotshots who earn their living by betting on the stock market."

"I'm sorry?" He couldn't think of an adequate reply. Jared wanted her gone as he needed to continue the investigation concerning his status problem. "Let's ignore my appearance for the moment. Why don't you tell me how I can help you?"

"Ah, you're black."

"My, aren't you observant?" Jared raised an eyebrow. This woman wasn't all there.

 "It's good to see the department is finally diversifying a bit more. It creates a strong social network." She nodded her head and handed Jared the folder. "More people of different ethnicities, more women... I was the only woman for years. It will do my heart good when I'm gone." 

"You are, uh, quitting?" Jared couldn't blame her. The city morgue seemed livelier than this place. He gazed at the folder in his hand, for some reason more curious about his visitor than the work. Although professional in appearance, her attitude seemed almost deflated.

"No, nothing that tame." She gave a brief chuckle. "My death date is tomorrow." 

She said it with such calm that Jared blinked, and his mouth popped open in confusion before he found his voice to speak. "Excuse me? You found out your death date, and you're still coming to work?" He shook his head in disbelief. The revelation shocked him to his core. No one, no matter how they lived, should spend their last days in this environment. "Most people throw parties or do a bunch of crazy stuff they never had the nerve to do when it's close to time."

The blue-haired woman, whose hands were now free, held out a limp appendage to Jared, who reluctantly shook hands. The handshake felt cold and floppy, like shaking a dead fish. 

"At this point, why bother? I'm Lillian, by the way. Lillian Harper. Not that you need to concern yourself for much longer." She gave a weak laugh, her eyes shifting from left to right. "I've always wondered how I'd died. But now, I'm pretty sure it'll be a car accident. I never learned to drive as I feared dying in a collision."