The Wink-- Short Short Story

Words swirled in his head like rain water swirling down a drain and his fingers danced on the screen of his phone as he walked and typed. World around him was just a blur, a blur which had no meaning, a blur which was merely a distraction at best, a blur of which he didn't want to belong to.

The music in his head turned to steady flow of noise as the voices got louder and he typed faster and faster about sleeping princesses who dreamt of data, about dragons who owned corporation, about love lost in feverish lust and gained in a hale of anger, about understanding and hate. He wrote about what life and love mean to a dying man.

He wrote all that and more as he walked

He walked through the crowds towards his destination. He saved the file on his phone and put the phone in a passing woman's carelessly open bag. He saw Death, revving her bike, on the other side of the road. He walked forth to ride with her.

He saw Death smile and wink at him.

And even though his dead body was dragged under a car for 20 meters, he was already riding into another world, his arms tightly clasped around the tiny waist of Death.
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Of course, I could have used Pratchett's version of Death but I always feel Gaiman's version of Death is sexier. If you can't make head or tail of the last sentence, you need to catch up on a LOT of reading.