Only someone whose life contains very little else, one feels, would treasure a piece of gimcrackery like this. It currently holds tea, with a slice of lemon. The bleak desktop also contains a paper knife in the shape of a scythe, and a number of hourglasses. Death picks up the mug in a skeletal hand . . . . . .and took a sip, pausing only to look again at the wording he’d seen thousands of times before, and then put it down.
