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So, this is what my life has come to. I thought as I sat on the broken electric cart in the lobby of the chain super-store, crying as quietly as possible and trying to gather what willpower I had left just to make it the few dozen steps to my car.The sad thing is that because of some long trained retail instinct every time the door opened I automatically looked up and smiled through the tears running down my face.I must look crazy. I chastised myself before reflecting that, really, if you are going to have a major emotional breakdown there are worse places to have it then in the middle of the night in a Wal-mart. People expect a certain level of crazy at a Wal-mart even at the best of times.Indeed, when the sound of the doors parting again pulled my head up to reflectively greet the next customer the man walking in ignored me completely. A quick glance around confirmed that for all my hysterics no one was even looking in my direction. It was both comfortably anonymous and depressingly dehumanizing.I let my head fall back down to stare at my hands, clenching and unclenching themselves in my lap, and thought, “Gods, I long for the sweet embrace of death right now.” I squeezed my eyes shut, and felt another set of hot tears begin their way through my ruined mascara and down my cheeks. “Excuse me?” A male voice asked from right in front of me.Oh, fuck no. Not right now. I thought, quickly scrubbing at my splotchy face with the backs of my hands, and keeping my head down.“Sorry,” The voice continued. It didn't sound concerned or, thank gods, pitying, it sounded puzzled. “Did you just call my name?”Startled by the question, I risked a peek up at my interrogator. It was the young man who had just walked into the store, now holding one of his earbuds loosely in his hand. He was a bit too thin and pale, with a wild shock of red-brown hair. Cornflower blue eyes peered at me over a pair of thick black framed glasses because of course the person who would finally pay attention to my little moment of weakness would have to be just my type. I heaved what I hoped was a discreet sigh before answering, “No, I am sorry I didn't call anyone's name.”“Are you sure?”I just shook my head no, trying to repress a sad sniffle“No, I know I heard you say 'Death' quite clearly.”My head jerked up at that and for the first time since the conversation started I really made made eye contact with the man, asking, “What?”“My name: Death. You called it out or at least you thought it loudly.”“Wha-?” I started again before my mouth seemed to freeze, hanging open in what was no doubt the least attractive expression ever made by mankind. I had to shake my head slightly to reboot my power of speech. “Wait, your name is Death?”“Yes.”“And you can hear my thoughts?!”“Only the ones about me.”“And you've come here to, what? Claim my soul?”“Oh, god no. I was just here to get some Cheetos and Mountain Dew.”I almost said 'what' again before my mind caught up with my month and told me that I had been saying that a lot. Still, the best I could manage instead was a choked, “Why?”“Well, I was binge watching Star Trek and decided that I didn't feel like enough of a cliché without the Cheetos and Mountain Dew.”“Original series or Next Generation?” I demanded, my mind losing its ground again.“Voyager actually.”I felt my eyes widen in surprise.And that is how I started dating Death.