She sat with Death, at the top of the lighthouse, her legs dangling over the edge, his robes and boney toes hanging next to hers. They watched the Light circle the town, and the incoming Sea, the approaching waves breaking against the Shore. And she could see it - eons moving by in minutes, the same deaths repeating, over and over again, humanity and life trapped in a warped cycle of collision. Unending errors, unending waves of dissatisfaction with reality.
She turned and looked at the Lighthouse, slowing the Light it cast out, slowing it enough that it stilled on one spot in town. ‘I'll see you later,’ she said, turning to Death. ‘There's something new I want to try.’