Don't Fear The Reaper

A brilliant, golden glow rose up from below the level of the counter, and the ceiling above quickly warmed into hues of pink and tangerine. The restless light became more intense by the second, when suddenly there came a muffled cough from the vicinity of the floor. Adjusting my bowtie and straightening my hat, I slowly leaned forward, arching my torso above the patient cash register, peering with outstretched neck, right over the edge. Barely two feet tall, there stood a little sun, its arms and legs and three-fingered hands simple and cartoonish, with dark, dark eyes and a small, worried mouth. It had no money, no friends, and no home. And I knew instinctively it had come for my soul.