Her mind wandered from the moment. This evening would end like all of the others. She would have another soul; the man, sitting on the barstool before her, would die. You always remember the first time, smiling at the thought. She recalled how it used to bother her; thinking of her victims. Time, however, had worn away the last of any emotion. Seasons faded into one another. Her immortality, now measured with a select collection of historical events. Even in the final act of collecting souls, the mundane world unfolds around her, oblivious to its fate. Unable to remember her exact origins, her mind returned to her latest victim.
“This evening won’t be ending as you may have hoped,” Cora interrupted. “Shall I cut to the chase?”
“What?,” the man replied. “Can I still get you that drink?”
“No offense, but it’s time for you to go.”
She willed the dark mist formed around her unlucky suitor. As his world grew dark, he staggered away and fell to the floor. A few patrons rushed to his side, while shouts of calling an ambulance rang out. Cora quietly stepped away from her handiwork, and slipped outside.