It was around one in the morning when my Reaper showed up. I was asleep, but the moment he entered the room I felt it, and my eyes opened.
Up until that point, I'd had no idea that Reapers existed, but there he was, sitting in my desk chair and staring at me. He wasn't wearing an official nametag that read “Joe Death, Professional Reaper” or anything like that, but somehow I just knew. Most normal people can’t sneak onto an airtight spaceship without leaking all of the oxygen into space. He scowled when I sat up and acknowledged him.
I stared for a minute, and then I laughed. By that point, laughing was about all I could do.
“I always knew you'd come for me early.”
“You weren't supposed to wake up,” was his only response. He was staring back at me, but his was the most apathetic stare I'd ever seen in my life. If I had fallen to the floor, foaming at the mouth, he probably wouldn't have even moved.