Master and Companion
Mr. Brown woke up one morning with a purpose. He had a meeting with death. Everything was, this morning, just as it was the night before. Perhaps Mr. Brown was a day older, only in the sense of time, though, to the human eye nothing had changed. But still, perhaps things had changed, the difference as obvious as the difference between night and day, sometimes are not entirely easy to see, over a course of time so minimal as the passing of night in to day. The thought lingered like the overcast morning outside his window. Mr. Brown remained a moment longer in bed, pondering his reservations, thought over this later reservation, but into his thoughts he lapsed back, and in bed remained not a moment longer. Mr. Brown became automated. The day, like so many others in a long span before it, had begun. His creaky knees squeaked, he rolled across the bed springs. Even after his wife had passed, ever since he was a small child, Mr. Brown was in the habit of pushing his bed towards a windowless