Norman Wells lifted a cup of coffee to chin level and enjoyed the smell of his lukewarm drink. He let his eyes close as the aroma filled him up to the very brim of his soul. As far as coffee went, he didn't drink the stuff, but he could smell it all day long. He didn't need the caffeine; the numbers were more than enough to keep him awake.

Ah yes, the numbers. They were everywhere, shining bright green and always counting down to the inevitable. Each set belonged to someone oblivious of just how close they were to oblivion. The sorry saps couldn't see the numbers. Oh no, only Norman could see the numbers; only Norman had the pleasure of seeing life tick away a second at a time.

Lucky him.

Although there are worse tasks to be performed among Death and all her friends. He could be Agatha and Michael, spending the day determining how everyone was to die. Or Clarke and Christine, programming the timeline of deaths down to the very second. At least Norman was out in the mortal world, charged only with the task of recording the new fears and features of the world and reporting back to Death twice every month. Death—either Libi or Tina, Norman honestly couldn't remember—felt that Norman was capable of doing his job on his own. Norman didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise.

Norman checked the time and decided he had been there in the coffee shop long enough. He grabbed his cup and stood, dumping the cold contents of the mug into a nearby plant before leaving. He grabbed a newspaper from a busy stand and flipped to the only page that kept him working: the page with the birth announcements. As long as he didn't remember they were all born to die, he was alright.

"Are you going to pay for that?"

Norman glanced up from his newspaper and felt his stomach drop. A girl, no older that fifteen, stood in front of him with hands on hips and five minutes hanging over her head.

"Well?"

Norman scrambled through his pockets, looking for money while searching the area for whatever could be her cause of death. He's seen people in their last minutes of life, but never this close, never this young.

The girl's face relaxed into a look of concern. "You okay, sir? You look like you've seen a ghost or something. Here, let's sit down at the bench over here."

She guided Norman to a bench behind him and sat down next to him.

"Do you want some water or something?"

Norman shook his head furiously.

"Okay." Four minutes and counting.

"Amanda, get over here!" someone at the stand yelled.

"Give me a second!" Amanda yelled back.

"Don't make me call Dad."

"Get bent, Markus!"

"That's it, I'm calling him."

"Tell him to get bent for me."

Norman decided in that moment to do something he vowed to Death herself never to do.

"Amanda, you're going to die in three minutes."

Amanda looked at him wide-eyed.

"I don't know what will be the cause," he continued. "But I can tell you that in two minutes and forty-six seconds, you will be dead."

She swallowed. "How do you know that?"

"Everyone has these big green numbers over their head, counting down every second until they're dead."

Amanda looked around. "I don't see them."

"Only I can see them. It's complicated."

"Try me."

"I work for Death. I'm one of her friends, I guess you could say."

"Wait, Death is a girl?"

Norman nodded. "For now, at least. She changes it up depending on her mood."

Amanda looked down at her hands. "How much longer?"

"A minute fifty."

She nodded. "So you're friends with Death?"

"She's my boss, but we get along alright. Sometimes she tells me I'm too soft. I just tell her I'm too human for her tastes."

"How does somebody start working for Death?"

"She picks you, usually. If you see things others can't, or if you think backwards, she'll usually come for you. There's a few, though, that learn too much. You know, about dying and the reality of the afterlife and the like. Then Death has no choice but to employ them to avoid revealing the truth to all the other humans."

"Which is it for you?"

"I can see the numbers. Been able to as long as I can remember. You know what's always struck me as weird?"

"What?"

"I've never had the numbers. Or if I do have them, I can't see them. Probably for the best, though. I'd lose my mind if I had to watch my life tick away. It's bad enough to watch it happen to others."

Amanda nodded. "Just thinking about it is making me crazy."

"Do you want to know?"

"Yeah."

"Forty-four seconds."

Amanda blew out a breath. "Wow."

"Although I don't know how you could die just sitting here. What would you have done if I hadn't started talking to you?"

She shrugged. "Go back to the stand, probably. You don't think something's going to happen to the stand, do you?"

"I don't know. Causes is Agatha and Michael's department, not mine."

Amanda stood. "Markus! Come here!"

Markus could sense the panic in his sister's voice and went right over to her. "What's wrong?"

"Something is going to happen to the stand."

"What—"

A car ran off the busy road and into the newspaper stand, coming to rest on its side where Markus had been standing moments before.

"Holy shit," Markus said once he could find words. "Mandy, how did you know that was going to happen?"

"I read something like that just the other day," she replied, remembering a foggy version of what had just happened.

"We need to get out of here," Norman ordered, standing.

"Why?" Amanda asked.

"Because you should have died fifteen seconds ago."

I hope you liked it! I am always open to feedback, so please feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts!