Death and the God of Lost Causes

They meet every Thursday afternoon in the park, because Death doesn't mind the company and the god has to be true to his nature. They grab a coffee and sit down at one of those little chess tables, though they never play. Instead, they watch the people walking in the park, and on the street, and make plans to meet throughout the week. Death takes on many appearances: in each meeting comes as a different person. The god is always the same. He is an old balding man, wearing an old worn out sweater - olive usually - and pants that threaten to swallow him whole. His face is heavy and wrinkled; the skin on his chin hangs loose with the goose hair stubble that grows in hospitals. His eyes are deep and brown and are filled with compassion along with a surprising amount of youth and strength. Death enjoys approaching the meeting as new person every time, and seeing if the god recognizes him. Death comes to these meetings out of curiosity. The god comes because he has no choice. Still, the two are civil, forever is too long to bicker. The god comes to ask for life. Death can not concede. And so they schedule. They will meet in an alley sometime between Tuesday night and Wednesday morning where the god will look for an exit. They will meet on a bridge late Friday night where the god will try to give some hope. They will meet countless times in the hospital, where the god silently pleads as the tragedies tick away. Still, at each scheduled stop, Death performs his duty and smiles. Death smiles because, when the god's compassion overcomes his own senses and leaves him lying feeble with grief, Death can hold him as he cries.