Time plays with the lives of the living.

She's a sarcastic sod who enjoys stretching and compressing our lives, and Benny was the latest victim of her games. The alarm had forgotten to sound, meaning the morning rush hour had come too soon. In his haste, the coffee had spilled down his shirt, so he'd had to change, missed his bus, forgotten his pass and slipped on the stairs.

Time was laughing at the crumpled body. It was just a vessel to an ego, anyway. There were plenty more.

"Next!" she cried.

"I thought we talked about this," said Death.