It's the sudden ones that are the most interesting.
They appear on my schedule without warning, a solar ping on the job-radar. One moment I am in the sterile white of the ICU -- the taste of fermenting worry and stinging rubbing alcohol never dislodges from my mouth, no matter the flavours of the world.
Perhaps I should be flattered by this social demand for cleanliness in preparation of my arrival. Really you needn't bother: centuries of existence have numbed me to the dirt caked into my boots.
That is, if I had boots...
I'm sorry, where was I?
Oh yes, of course: the sudden.
The unexpected.
Some are simply early for my rapidly-approaching inevitability. The luckiest ones lie on their floors, in their chairs, or in their beds. The unluckiest: a flaming car on an asphalt river, the filthy linoleum of some store or restaurant. However, as in all cases, they gaze at me with terrified surprise.
Really, I've never thought of myself as particularly frightening in and of myself; I always try to smile reassuringly when I extend out my hand to them. Rarely does anyone take it
In those times I remember one of the sofas.
I remember him not so much for the couch or even the fact that his dog, a white fluffy creature comprised almost entirely of long legs, watched me the entire time.
I remember that he smiled tiredly at me, his soul sighing a resigned sound.
They never smile.
Never.
I admit that I was actually caught off-guard -- so much so that I actually forgot to try and make my face a calming facade; to extend out my hand.
It didn't matter. He beat me to it.
His soul stood from the couch, still smiling that sad smile, and held out his hand. I took it. He had a warm, firm grip.
"I suppose there's no point in arguing with you," he had said. Only then did the smile fade, and his soul cast a glance upwards.
In the room directly above us, another soul slept peacefully. I could see her through the wood and dry-wall. Her face was passive and kind, deep in the embrace of Sleep.
I see Sleep often -- he's my cousin, twice-removed on one side of the family and our paths often cross in our professions. That night he gave me a sad look; it was the mirror image of the one on the face of the soul before me.
"We must go."
"I know," said the soul.
I held out my hand and he took it, fingers still inexplicably warm.
I'll let you in on a trade secret: I only carry your souls away for a brief moment. I pick you up in my arms and shut your eyes for the last time. Then, in a terrible lightness of being, you will dissolve into a cloud of coloured light. Each soul has a unique colour and, yes, there is such a thing as a black soul.
I shut the eyes of this man's soul and he immediately dissolved in a shimmer of light, a delicate wisp of wind. He was the colour of golden autumn: all bright warmth. And in those seconds before the shimmer vanished, I looked into the light and saw this Sudden's life.
It was as his soul was: bright, golden and warm.
The soul above began to stir and I knew it was time to depart.
The suddens are the most interesting, but the discoveries are always what hurt the most.
