Though the excitement of Jumping places had yet to abate, I decided that keeping a low profile was in order. In the rush and thrill of it all, I knew there was a chance I would jump into the middle of a sea of people all watching and waiting with their phones poised for the latest internet sensation.

I was determined not to be it, so instead I had chosen the method of transportation that every single other human being on this planet had chosen too. At least that is what it seemed like, as I was squished up against a stranger and the door or the subway train.

I breathed a sigh of relief as fresh air smacked my face as I tumbled from the carriage and onto a platform. I wasn't entirely sure where I was, or where I was heading. Today was an exploration day.

I straitened myself, my spine aching from being hunched over, and pulled my cardigan out of my bag, I had had no use for it in the metal can of an oven. I leaned against the cool brick of the underground station and watched, as people appeared and dissipated as though in a swarm.

A man in a suit, holding a briefcase caught my eye, not because he was dressed smartly, but because he was not boarding the train. Like her, he was stood, watching the people come and go and the trains race by. His shoes were scuffed, hair dishevelled, but slicked back with gel to try and tame it. His skin looked sallow, his eyes tired and weary.

A train came to a standstill, and I watched as his gaze found a young family, the parents smiling happily as they each clutched the hand of a young girl, who in turn skipped off the train, her pigtails bouncing along with her.

The man's eyes teared up, and he took a deep breath, turning back to the now empty rails, staring out to the round, black hole which the trains appeared out of as if by magic. But there was nothing magic about this situation.

I rubbed my heart, wondering if the power that had been bestowed upon me was not working for some reason. I felt no pull, no need to Jump. And yet here in front of me was a man suffering in silence, his shoulders slumped, defeated by the world, eyes gazing into the darkness as if waiting for sweet relief.

Even without the pull, I knew I needed to do something, say something.

We stood next to each other in silence for a little while, before I noticed something clutched in his hands. A small pink rabbit, its ear nearly gnawed off, hanging from between his fingers.

I chuckled, and pointed down at it, hoping to connect with him, make him see that he could talk to me. "That's one cute rabbit, your kid must love it!"

The man looked down, tears welling in his eyes. "It's her favourite."

I reached over and squeezed his arm lightly, bringing his eyes up to me.

"I'm sorry, is she OK?" I asked, he had said It is her favourite, not was. At least that meant his little girl was alive.

"No."

A train pulled up into the station and as though I had woken him from a trance, he pulled his bag higher onto his shoulder, and together we walked onto the train, the carriage was nearly empty.

"She is only four, and the brightest star in the whole universe. So happy. It's just me and her, her mom left when she was two. Carrie. That's my little girls name. Cancer. A brain disorder, no one knows what is wrong. We get the next results tomorrow. I try to work, my boss doesn't really understand. So I work really late for three days so I can come home early today and spend a long weekend with her. She's the only thing keeping me on this earth, fighting. It is her birthday next week, and it's as though she knows I can't afford to get her a present. She has only asked for a small teddy bear, to give rabbit a friend." The words spilled from his mouth in a torrent of built up emotions finally finding their relief.

"I don't know why I'm telling you all of this." He confessed, hanging his head in his hands, as he sat down, slumping in to a chair.

"Sometimes, you just need to get it all out. I'm sure that as proud of her you are, she is equally as proud and thankful for you. There is nothing better than a parent who fights for their child." I replied. "But it's OK if things are getting on top of you, that's allowed, that's normal. And it's not the end of the world if you stop for a minute and ask for help."

The train pulled up to the next stop and I followed him off, taking a note of the hospital and ward where Carrie was, with a promise to send a letter and a toy for her. I was planning on sending a lot more, but he didn't need to know that.

I flitted between trains, wandered through different streets and finally ended up back where I began, feeling like my day had been productive.

With my mind picturing all the sort of food I should make myself tonight, cooking a hobby I had found myself enjoying more and more, I opened my front door to find I was not the first to do so that day.

Death was sat on the sofa, his cloak discarded on the back of a counter top chair, a bottle of beer in his hands.

"Hi there, please do come in." I said sarcastically, discarding my own coat and bag as I headed towards the fridge to get a beer for myself.

"I let myself in, you have been out for a while." He replied, a fake smile gracing his lips as I joined him on the sofa.

"How long have you been here?" I asked, popping the cap off and taking a cool swig from the bottle. Refreshing.

"Not long at all, only an hour, maybe two." He replied, chugging the last of his bottle and setting it down on the floor, a tingle of glass on glass making me realise that the beer had not been his first.

"That is quite a while. You should have text me or something." I replied, eyeing the bottles by his feet.

"An hour or two is nothing when you have been alive for longer than you can remember and have forever still to go, waiting in front of you."

I sighed quietly.

"Well, it is lovely to see you again. How was your day?" I asked in an attempt to steer the conversation into something that would lighten the mood a little.

Death leaned forward and set his beer on the coffee table. "My day has been like every other day of my life. Tell me about yours. Distract me from my life." He replied, running his hand through his hair, grasping tightly as though it would let him pull the thoughts out of his mind.

I nodded slowly. "I just did some exploring. I'm trying to get my head around this city, so when I Jump I know where I am. I'm a local now, so I would like to know what is around and about."

"Did you discover anything?" He asked, looking at me as though he was genuinely interested in what I had to say, even though his eyes looked tired and his shoulders were slumped.

"Many things!" I replied, excited by the memories of my discoveries today. "This city Is full of exciting things to see and do."

Death stood, almost cutting my sentence off. "Do you have any more of that food that we had last time?" He asked, walking over to the fridge, helping himself to my kitchen.

I chuckled. "We ate all the pasta that I cooked, though I could easily make us something else, are you hungry?" I asked.

"I don't know." He replied, eyeing the raw ingredients in the fridge with suspicion.

"Well, then I'll cook us something to eat then!" I replied, ushering him to the counter top chair before I unloaded ingredients. "I have a question for you, If that is OK?" I asked.

Death nodded. "That only seems fair."

I chopped up some vegetables as I worded my question, not sure if I really wanted an answer to it.

"I met the father of a little girl today, Carrie Rodgers, she is four years old and very sick in hospital. No one knows what is wrong with her. I'm going to send her toys and a few supermarket vouchers for her father. It's her birthday next week. I was wondering if you could tell me if she is going to die soon? I know that if she is, then that is the way it has to be, the circle of life and everything..." I rambled. "But, if she is not going to die, do you have the power to tell me what is wrong with her?"

I threw the vegetables in a sizzling pan, the crackling filling the silence that had fallen between us.

Death eyed me carefully as he constructed his own reply. "I will see what I can find out. Carrie Rodgers, four years old, nearly five, right?" He asked.

I nodded in reply as I prepped us two fillet steaks.

My dad had taught me how to cook steak, I smiled sadly with fond memories, knowing that I could carry a piece of him with me even now I was no longer in his life.

"I've never had a birthday." Death said, after we had sat in a comfortable silence, listening to the sizzle and crackling of the cooking food.

I glanced up, surprised. "Everyone has a birthday every single year!"

"I guess I forgot when mine is." He replied.

"Well, I won't be having any of that, you should pick a date so we can celebrate it this year!" I laughed, watching as he scrunched his face up in displeasure. "I'm serious!"

"Maybe." He replied, rolling his eyes as he saw my face light up.

After all, birthdays meant a gluttony of food, presents and cake. lots and lots of cake.

What is your favourite type cake? Mine is Devils chocolate cake- (seriously, there was no pun intended!), with chocolate buttercream and chocolate Ganache... not like i'm not obsessed with chocolate or anything...