For @stratcom-agent-kennedy
The room wasn’t very large. In fact it seemed rather small. It should’ve smelled oaky or faintly of smoke. It should’ve felt warm, but there simply wasn’t. There was no scent to it, no sensation at all. There was only the feeling of soft pressure from the leather arm chair the agent was resting in. No pain from his own body or head. Only a soft nothing.
The man across from him sat behind a classy dark wood desk, smiling warmly. At his fingers were five rather thick manila folders, resting squarely before his folded hands.
“Hello Leon,” he said, looking at the man like the two of them were old friends reconnecting. “I’m afraid I have some unfortunate news for you.... you’ve died.” Again, not that he’d remember. But first Death had to break the news again. “I’m sorry to have to tell you, but... Frankly, it’s about time you got some kind of peace.”
