Erdie's Bakery

The titanic black mass of Death was paused beside a large pane of glass, staring in at the treats arranged on the other side.

The glass read "Erdie's Bakery", a place that Death himself had not heard of until recently. He clicked his teeth together, considering.

People passed by him while he waited, not one of them noticing but each of them deftly avoiding him somehow.

The sun passed slowly over the sky, and Death continued to hum and haw.

A few minutes before the clerk came to change the sign from open to closed, Death slid in to the shop.

The person behind the counter took immediate notice of Death, but somehow failed to see the skull-faced, enormous, becloacked figure for what it was. Cheerily, they asked "What can I get for you? We're just about to close up, I'm afraid."

"Two loaves, please. One cinnamon-raisin, if you've got a fresh one. And one loaf of whatever you have that's stale. I'll pay full price." Death responded, his icy voice covering the glass with a thin layer of frost that evaporated as quickly as it appeared.

"For the birds?" The clerk asked.

"Mm." Death nodded.

"On the house then." The clerk winked. He scurried into the back of the shop, and produced a loaf from the previous day. It still, to Death at least, looked quite delicious. He placed it in a paper bag, along with a sealed loaf of the fresh Cinnamon Raisin bread. "That'll be two-fifty, please. Cash or card?" The clerk beamed.

Death rummaged about in his cloaks, and produced some ancient-looking gold coins. He selected two of them that he was fairly certain at this stage in history were worth a few thousand dollars each, and placed them on the counter. "Cash." He stated, his ancient voice rumbling the walls gently. He picked up his bread, and was about to leave when the clerk asked him an unusual question.

"So, how did you hear about us?" He asked in his chipper tone. "We have a Facebook page, twitter account, Google maps pin..." The clerk had a clipboard and a pen out, eager to take down Death's response.

He paused by the door, holding it open and letting the last few beams of the setting sun slide into the shop before he answered.

"A friend of mine told me about you. Mr. Edgwin."

"Oh Mr. Edgwin! Wonderful guy. I do deliveries to his place." The clerk ticked some box on his chart. "I always look forward to chatting with him."

Death looked deep into the clerk's eyes, and found only earnestness. The cold, ancient holes that Death uses for eyes softened slightly, and he replied sadly.

"As did I."

And he left for the park with his bread.