He couldn't sleep. No use fighting it. Counting sheep could take you only so far into the sandman's kingdom.Listening to music could clear his head only so much. Drinking water had its limits. Yeah, there was nothing he could do to fight it. Might as well get something done.
He got up from the bed and walked to his laptop. The bright light pierced the darkness and stabbed at his eyes. He lowered the brightness and opened the document he had left unfinished a few hours back. His fingers moved onto the keyboard and started typing. As the letters started appearing on the screen he felt himself slipping into thought. This mundane stuff wasn't what he was supposed to do. He could do this kind of stuff even when he was asleep. It didn't require his brain, just his fingers. As his fingers moved ceaselessly on the keyboard he started dreaming of a better life. Oh what he would give to ...
His reverie was broken by a sound from the kitchen. As his brain processed the sound of breaking plates and a mew his legs started moving. Cursing the cat he reached the kitchen to find milk all over the floor. "No use crying over spilt milk", he grumbled. He mopped the floor and threw the broken vessel into the dustbin. It was easier when she was around. I didn't have to know anything. He thought with bitterness.
It was in fact an year before the day when she had left him there. His unkempt beard stood testimony to the fact that he had trouble adjusting to life ever since. Not used to the daily chores he had found himself less and less inclined to take care of his house. One had to wade through the stink of neglect to get around the house. Clothes and various other items were strewn haphazardly everywhere. Unwashed dishes and a faint smell hinting at the age of uneaten pizza slice in the box hung about the kitchen. A closer inspection would reveal ants scurrying about on some sticky residue left behind on the kitchen floor. Not that he cared.
As he walked back to his laptop he looked at the clock. The clock and the calendar next to it reminded him that it was now his birthday. No phone calls. Not that he expected any. The past one year seemed to pass through his mind's eye. It seemed like eternity.
As he sat down once again in front of his laptop and numbed his mind for the work ahead he felt a sudden chill. He checked if any of the windows he could see from his place were open. All closed. Then why the sudden chill? "That would be because of me", said the cloaked figure who had suddenly appeared behind him. He jumped out of the chair in shock and hit his legs on the table. It was still smarting when he shouted at the figure, "What? Who? How?".
"Very articulate you are.", Death said.
"Who are you? What are you doing here? How did you get in?"
"Good good. For a moment I thought I was in the wrong house", Death grinned. Except you couldn't make that out. The hood put his face in shadow.
"You haven't answered my question".
"Quite right. That was quicker than the others", Death said and not without a slight sense of wonder.
"Others? What others? You get the hell out of my house".
"And I thought you would be more intelligent than the usual lot. But you're just like the rest of them. I had a lot of expectations you know. She told me a great deal about you.", Death said.
Thoroughly confused was a feeling he was not used to. That was the kind of feeling that others felt when he talked to them. He vaguely noticed the figure looking at his wrist watch and unconsciously realised who it was that stood before him. No, this wouldn't do. It wasn't time. Think think think! What's the use of reading so many books and watching so many movies. There must be something out there. Some loophole...
"I challenge you to a game of chess", he announced with what he hoped was a challenging tone.
"What!". Confusion passed through Death's face. The shadow did not let the expression out. "OK. Fine. Whatever". He conjured out a chess board from thin air.
"Time to put all my chess skills to use", he thought and moved the pawn two squares ahead.
And so the game continued. Death was a smart player, but so was he. The game continued for an hour.
"Checkmate", he announced with relief clearly showing through in his voice.
"Hmm. Nice match. Haven't been beaten in a long time. Let's go then", Death said.
"Wait. I beat you in a game. You have to let me stay", he pleaded.
"What nonsense". Death threw his lasso and pulled the soul away from the body. As he stuffed the soul into his sack he wondered - "Why do so many people keep challenging me to chess and expect me to let them stay when they win?! These humans are crazy".
Death never knew why that was.