Still feeling muzzy, Tiffany pushed herself back onto her feet, through gentle swirls of rising dust, and turned to the dark door. It wasn’t there. There were her footprints in the sand, but they went only a few feet and, anyway, were slowly disappearing. There was nothing around her but dead desert, forever. She turned back to look toward the distant mountains, but her view was blocked by a tall figure, all in black, holding a scythe. It hadn’t been there before. GOOD AFTERNOON, said Death.
