"So how're things there in the 'Death Headquarters'?" I asked, my words echoing in the quiet memory aisle of my middle school years.
It felt as though I was speaking to myself, and perhaps I was since there was no one physically with me as I ventured down this corridor of my past.
"Same old, same old," Fake Death responded with a heavy sigh, his voice carrying an air of weariness.
I waited for him to continue, to provide more insight into their headquarters that he still hadn't even expounded about, or at least engage in a bit of small talk. However, he remained silent, leaving my question and me hanging.
I furrowed my brow at no one in particular.
"That's it?"
"That's what?"
"You won't even continue?" I pressed, my impatience growing clear in my voice.
"What is there for me to continue?" He asked, sounding surprisingly obtuse.
