Embarrassed by the administrative leave he was forced to take, the Grim Reaper found difficulty adjusting to the free time that now filled his days. He couldn’t recall the last time he took a vacation and, with nothing to do, felt disconnected. He missed the days spent observing others, waiting for that precise moment to intercede so he could introduce himself and bid farewell with the same haughty voice. Physically exhausted and emotionally drained, the workaholic lifestyle finally caught up with him.

“You don’t want to work yourself into an early grave,” his doctor advised.

With all the world’s destinations available, the Reaper decided to visit an old friend, one he hadn’t seen in a number of years. He locked away his scythe, changed out of his hooded robe, and headed for the door.

When the Grim Reaper first entered Purgatory, he stood off to the side and watched as each soul arrived. It was a unique perspective. Under normal circumstances, he only interacted with people at the outset of their transition into the afterlife, to guide them towards their eternal destination. More often than not, the deceased were reluctant to accept their demise and pleaded with him for more time but that wasn’t his department.

Purgatory was a weigh station, a temporary layover for souls. The transgressions committed when alive were addressed before standing in judgement before whatever higher power each believed in. At least that’s the way it was explained to the Grim Reaper when he first started working in the afterlife.

The prevailing sentiment there was different than he was accustomed to. He couldn’t put his finger on it, at least not right away, but something was off. A few of the souls he recognized but couldn’t recall all their names. There were far too many to keep track of. He considered approaching but feared that any interaction might disrupt the serenity each displayed. A smile appeared on the Reaper’s face when he realized what was amiss. There was a contented peacefulness amongst the masses.

Elsewhere in Purgatory, God sat on a park bench tossing scraps of bread to His flock. The nearby pigeons cooed with gratitude. A part of His daily routine, God often found that the simplest tasks provided the greatest pleasure.

Twenty feet away, in the center of the park, sat a row of concrete tables and benches. Marble game boards were inlayed atop each table for playing checkers or chess. Before walking towards them, God reminded the birds not to defecate indiscriminately. It was rare that they obliged. A few minutes later, His chess playing challenger arrived.

“You are late again, my friend,” God chided.

Devoid of emotion and unapologetic, Satan asked, “Why do you always call me a friend?”

“You’re my friend even if I’m not yours.”

The two had a standing appointment. Once a month, God and Satan met to play chess and discuss whatever came to mind. Their relationship was cordial, more than most believed, stemming from Satan’s brief stint as a cherub in Heaven. That was long ago, before Satan was banished for believing his will was greater than that of God.

When the Grim Reaper, in search of his friend, stumbled upon the pair, he was surprised by the spectacle. His path sometimes crossed with God and Satan but never both at the same time. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and approached Satan from behind.

Leaning in, the Grim Reaper winked at God and whispered into Satan’s ear, “Your time is up. You need to come with me.”

It was the same line he recited to millions of souls upon their initial ascension into the afterlife. He hoped the distraction would provide God an advantage in the game. Satan rolled his eyes, unamused by the attempted humor.

“I didn’t realize you two hung out,” admitted the Grim Reaper.

“Like the Bible says,” God began, “I’ve spoken with Satan in the past and will continue to do so until the end of time.”

“Yeah, but you can’t believe everything that you read.”

God replied with a discontented sigh. The Grim Reaper sat down and waited for the game to finish so he could play the winner.