Jordan was folding her laundry when Death walked in. "Hey," said Death. "Uh, hey." Jordan put down her tank top. "Are you.... Am I about to die?"
"What? Oh, heck no." Death waved away her fear. "It's laundry day."
"And you... use my building's laundry?"
"I use whatever's convenient," Death said. Its mouth didn't move when it spoke.
"So, you were just in the neighborhood..."
"In the building, actually." Jordan froze, and Death noticed. "Mrs. Waylan in 4B."
"Oh God, Mrs. Waylan!"
"You were friends?"
"Um..." Jordan moued. "Not really."
"Yeah, she really didn't want to go. Tried to beg but just vomited. Whatever she ate, it really disagreed with her." Death looked down at its robe. "And I want to get it out before it stains. You still using the washer?" Jordan gestured it to go ahead. Death wriggled out of the robe, a skeleton stuffing a mass of black cloth into a washing machine.
Jordan filled her laundry basket and slowly walked from the basement. "Wait," Death said. She froze. "You got any spare quarters?"
"Here." Jordan reached out with her laundry card. "Just leave it, under, uh, wherever." She left as fast as she could without running.