A story of a coffin salesman named Grim, through the eyes of Grim.
This story was inspired by a writing prompt from reddit: You know when people will die, you are a mortician trying to sell caskets.
Initial response:
There's this thing called synaesthesia where certain individuals are able to hear shapes or taste colors. It's a blending of their senses and their perception of the world is fundamentally different than those around them. I was diagnosed with this when I was 6. They said I associated personalities with color. They were partially right. I associate something with color, but it is certainly not personalities. No, it's time of death, and unfortunately the only color I see is grey.
If someone is far from death, I see a grey haze around their face, obscuring their facial features, but as their death draws nearer and nearer, I begin to discern more and more of their face until I can see it perfectly and they are a corpse. I guess I always had trouble communicating with people because of this. On the one hand, I knew when others were talking and could definitely tell when they were agitated or joyful from their voices, but I could never see their faces. There was always a missing element to our conversations.
That was fine. I could see them clearly when they were dead, so I became a mortician. At least then I could see people for who they truly were, in more ways than one. Because of my unique perception, I was one of the best coffin salesmen in the business. When I saw the whites of their eyes, I knew it was time to shoot them a sale.
Of course, the locals took notice of my abilities, and because I was a naturally quiet fellow, they associated my voice with the death of their loved ones. I wasn't well liked, but I was certainly needed. Eventually, people just took my word as law. If I wanted to sell to them, they would purchase the coffin and quit their job. At the very least, they knew their death was soon. No one was left guessing.
One afternoon, I was walking down the street, attempting to find new customers when a rather obnoxious man shouted, "Hey Grim!" He ran up to me with his blurry face and tubby belly and asked, "When am I gonna die?"
"You still have some time left." I said.
"Phew, that's a relief! I thought my wife was going to kill me after today!" He laughed and his belly jiggled.
I really didn't want to talk to him any longer. I had business to do. "If you lost your job, she will break up with you, and then you might be a little closer to death." I chuckled and pushed him aside.
"Wait. Grim. How much closer to death?"
"Look. What's your name? Bob, Billy...?"
"Jake."
"Ah, yeah, you look like a Jake. I'll call you Billy. You are not going to die soon."
"Great. Thanks a lot Grim."
"My name is not Grim."
"Maybe not, but your expression is." He began to laugh. I had no idea why. That was the most forced pun I had ever heard.
"Are you a father, Billy?"
"Why yes. Yes, I am." He pointed a rather chubby finger into the crowd. "There's my daughter, the love of my life!"
I looked in the direction and saw a little girl with blonde hair and freckles all over her... I could see her face. She had a day or two. So Billy was a customer, after all!
"Hey Billy. I was thinking about it, you might just want a coffin."
"Haha. Sure! You just said I had plenty of time."
"Oh, you do. This coffin would be..." I didn't know how to break it to him, "Half price."
Billy froze. His hands jittered at his sides and he began babbling. "I... I..." Slowly the cloud above his shoulders began to rescind.
I had seen this before. I knew what was about to happen. Slowly but surely, I began to make out more and more features of his face, which seemed all too...
"Grim." Billy's eyes were diverted to my feet. "I think I might need two coffins. Today's really not my day."
But it was mine. Those two coffins would more than pay my rent for this month.