Collection by Jo Skead
	"I'm sorry, I think there's been some kind of mix-up," Alan said, scanning down the list attached to his clipboard. "I think you're right; both of us shouldn't be here," Greg replied, checking down his own sheet. "Well, I'm definitely supposed to be here. See, it says so on my collection sheet: Mrs. Edith Chambers, 7 Willow Avenue, 3:36pm, Saturday, 16th September, '06. That's today, and in about ten minutes away, I believe". "But my sheet says exactly the same. Is this some kind of wind-up?" "I dunno," Greg shrugged his shoulders. "We might as well have a seat until the old dear shows up." Greg sat at the small kitchen table and Alan took the seat opposite. There was an awkward silence for a few moments. "Got many collections done today?" Alan asked. Greg glanced down his sheet. "Yeah, a few. This is my last one before I go back to the office and sign out." "And is your boss as bad as people say he is?" "No, not really. As long as you get your work done right and don't mess around he's a pretty decent guy. He's just trying to run a business smoothly, that's all. Mind you, this isn't my first career choice, but y'know." "Just rumours, I guess, then," Alan added. Greg glanced at his watch. Mrs. Chambers was due to walk through the door in the next five minutes. "So, how long have you worked in the business?" "Oh, this is only my second day collecting. I didn't realise how business-like the whole process is. I guess it's better this way, as there would be so many lost souls wandering around. The relief on some of their faces when you come to pick them up is unreal sometimes." "Wish I got that kind of response," Greg replied, glancing at his watch again. "Right. What are we going to do about her?" He nudged his head over to the empty door as if the old lady was standing there already. "What is the normal procedure? Do we each contact our head office?" Alan asked, flipping over his collection sheet to see what the small print said. "No need for that. I'm sure we can decide between us where she should go," Greg said. "How about letting the coin decide?" "Sure, why not. I can't think of a fairer way," Alan replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Heads means she comes with me." Greg smiled and flipped a coin into the air between them, and their eyes watched it spin down, hit the table and continue in its circles. Both of their heads turned as the kitchen door opened and Mrs. Chambers shuffled in, weighed down by shopping bags. They sat silently and watched her as she unloaded her bags, oblivious to their presence. The coin was still spinning. Suddenly a glass jar shattered on the floor, staining it red with pasta sauce, and the women grabbed her chest with her frail hand and let out a cry as she slumped forward and landed face down on the floor. They both rose from the table. The coin had stopped. "No offence, but let's hope our paths don't cross again". "None taken." They exchanged a brief smile. --- The elderly woman was helped to her feet. She dusted herself down and stared at her empty shell on the floor. She shook the gentleman's hand cautiously. "Good afternoon, Madam. I've been sent from the collection agency. I'm here to assist you in crossing over". "But where am I going?" "No need to worry Madam, you'll see when you get there."
	Copyright © 2006 Jo Skead