Waiting. Again.
Ever notice how time flies when you're busy? And crawls when you're just waiting to find out if you're dead forever? Yeah. That.
Sitting alone in the small corner where he pointed — the tired man who said 'Next' like it's the only word he knows.
He kept calling numbers as if he were reading grocery items.
"Next … Case number …"
Every time he called a number, someone would cry or laugh, others tried to argue.
I tried to breathe normally. I tried to sit normally. I tried to make my hands stop doing that thing where they look for a phone that isn't there.
But I still waited. Holding that "maybe" in mind.
My train of thought was cut short by the loud chime echoing through the room. I watched the guard in a white overall close the entry door, though the calling of numbers continued.
But I still waited.
Until it was just me left. Of course. I noticed the man at the center table sigh in relief. My first thought was—are they taking a break?
When all the souls had been processed—their word, not mine—the guard and the man at the center stood up as if preparing to leave.
Did they forget about me? Were they just going without telling me what to do? I rose from the corner where I had been waiting and followed them.
Suddenly, the man stopped and bumped into me.
"Ouch."
He turned, looked at me, and asked, "Where are you going?"
"Following you?" I replied.
He slapped his forehead, as if only then remembering that I was still there.
He sighed and walked back. I walked too.
I sat across from him at the center table, his eyes locked on me. His brows nearly touched, and I felt like a specimen under observation.
Minutes passed. Then his eyes widened—as if something clicked. A file appeared in his hand, seemingly out of nowhere.
"Deceased Case No. 29. You weren't supposed to be here".
He stopped as if waiting for my reaction. Didn't he already tell me that? Before he forgot me entirely and almost walked out?
I just nodded my head because, what could I say? Duh? You already said that dude. But no. I couldn't say that. Nodding is much better.
He went back to the file in his hand and recited—not reads, like he said this a thousand times before
Deceased Case No. 29. Here is our offer, pursuant to longstanding administrative deficiencies, a backlog has resulted in the non collection of certain souls. This constitutes a material breakdown in operational continuity. Accordingly, it has been determined that case no. 29 exhibit sufficient persistence and resilience…
While he recited, the letters and words seemed to float from his mouth. He's speaking an alien language again.
As he finished his recitation, I just stared at him. Not talking. Not moving. I don't understand anything.
In that tired tone of his, he asked "May I know your answer?" He again asked, "You didn't understand." A statement not a question. And I eagerly nodded.
That sigh again.
"Because of a huge backlog that's been piling up for centuries, some souls slipped through the cracks and were never collected."
He paused, still looking at me, then continued.
"Now, someone like you... with enough stubborn care is needed to track down three lost souls and help them finally move on.
The reward? A second chance. A fresh start. Debts wiped clean. Life reset. Another shot at living. So do you agree?"
As his words sink in. There was only one thing that came to mind.
"Will my grandson be okay?" I asked
He was about to recite the next answer but he stopped when he heard my answer.
His brows moved again. He opened his mouth, then closed it.
Then he sighed. The tired kind of sigh.
I looked at my hands. Thought of my Lisette and Eric, if I could really go back to them. I felt ashamed. Was it me being selfish?
Then I heard him say, "You would be alive".
I looked up at him and saw his face become somewhat tender and I answered.
"Yes".
"Case Accepted".