In the small town of Willowville, where strange things were afoot, lived a curious kid named Max. Max loved exploring the woods behind his house, always looking for adventure.
One afternoon, as the sun dipped low, Max stumbled upon an old clearing. To his surprise, sitting on a tree stump was a skeletal figure cloaked in black, sipping tea from a delicate china cup.
Max blinked and rubbed his eyes. "Are you...Death?"
The skeletal figure looked up, its eye sockets empty yet somehow expressive. "Yes, indeed. And you are?"
"Max," he replied, unphased. "What are you doing here?"
"Just enjoying a peaceful cup of tea," Death said, gesturing to a second cup on a log. "Care to join me?"
Max shrugged and sat down, taking the cup. "So, you're not here for me, right?"
Death chuckled, a sound like rattling bones. "Oh no, not today. I'm just taking a little break."
They sipped their tea in silence for a moment. Max, ever curious, asked, "What's it like being Death?"
Death leaned back thoughtfully. "Well, it's a job, like any other. Lots of traveling, meeting new people..."
Max grinned. "Do you get vacation days?"
"Not really, but I sneak in breaks when I can." Death sighed, which sounded more like a gentle breeze. "This job can be...grave."
Max giggled. "Do people always scream when they see you?"
"Quite often, yes. But some are more welcoming. Like you!" Death nodded appreciatively.
Max beamed. "Do you have any hobbies?"
"Hmm," Death pondered, tapping a bony finger on the stump. "I do enjoy knitting. Keeps the fingers nimble."
The sun began to set, casting long shadows. Max realized he should head home. "Will I see you again?" he asked.
Death stood, brushing off imaginary dust. "Perhaps, but hopefully not for a long time. Keep being kind, Max. It's refreshing."
With a wave, Death vanished into the woods, leaving Max with a story no one would believe and a new appreciation for life—and a fondness for tea parties with unexpected guests.