There had to be another option for getting out of this mess besides Harold. That's how I ended up here. The plaque on the door read “Grief Counseling.” Who else could it be? I grabbed the doorknob and then paused. If this was the reaper – the real deal as in death in a dingy robe with a sickle – did I really want to meet him...or her...it? Why not? He couldn't look too much worse than Crow did. I had nothing but time on my hands and all I did was sit around that office all day. I'd just say hello and introduce myself as someone new in the building. When you thought about it, I was really just being neighborly. And while we were getting acquainted, if by some chance the subject came up about me looking for an early exit from this particular situation, what harm was done? If he could hurry me along out of my contract a little quicker, I certainly wouldn't snub my nose at the offer. I turned the doorknob and pushed in to the reception area.
