“Hi, my name is Darci,” Darci said to herself in the mirror. She studied her face as she spoke, watching her lips enunciate each word and deliberating on whether her syllables were clear enough for the listener. 

Her voicemail, after all, was the first step in her last chance at freedom. She clenched her fists, determined to make this far-off dream a reality. 

She practiced another potential first line. “You’ve reached Darci Mort. If you have a—if you’d like me to—” she growled and braced her hands against the porcelain sink. “You can do this,” she said to herself. She closed her eyes. She drew in a breath. The door squeaked open. She dropped her chin to see a fluffy, black cat squeezing itself into the bathroom. “Good morning, Hades,” Darci sighed. Hades stepped across the tiled floor, rubbing against her calf. He circled between her ankles before and leapt onto the toilet lid. She glanced at him in the mirror. His bright green eyes were focused on her. 

“Do you know what day it is, Hades?” She grabbed her toothbrush and unscrewed her toothpaste. “Today is my last chance.” 

Because if her voicemail didn’t pull in customers and her business didn’t take off, she’d have to take the only other job offer she had. She’d work alongside the creepy attendant at the most run-down gas station in town, which was probably haunted—either with actual ghosts or the dead dreams of people like Darci.

Or worse, she’d have to move back home and live with her parents. 

But Darci had faith in this business. It was something only she could pull off, and it gave her a shot at finding her purpose. If she didn’t give it her all, she’d never be able to forgive herself. 

As she brushed her teeth and washed her face, she spoke around the minty tingling and soap dripping from her chin. Her mutterings about each step after she recorded her perfect voicemail floated out the window and washed down the drain, and with each of their escapes, Darci felt a bit more calm. 

She dragged a towel down her face, flashing her clean teeth in the mirror. She shook out her wrists and snatched her phone. 

She hit the edit voicemail button. 

“You’ve reached Darci Mort. Sorry I couldn’t take your call—” 

Meeeow. 

Darci’s nail hit her screen with a righteous clack, ending the recording. She spun. “Yes, Hades?” 

He began to purr, leaping from the toilet. He watched her as he left the bathroom. Darci sighed. She stomped to the kitchen, where Hades sat next to his empty food bowl, his black tail sweeping back and forth behind him. 

“You just had to wait until I tried to record it, didn’t you?” Darci scooped him a serving of food and refilled his water. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot as Hades sniffed at the food, taunting her. 

He finally munched on one of the pieces of kibble. 

She went back to the bathroom and stood again in front of her mirror.

She wanted the voicemail to sound natural and lively, invitational and trustworthy. She spoke to her reflection in an attempt to trick herself into thinking she was having a conversation with a real person. She raised the phone to her mouth and started the recording. 

“You’ve reached the phone of Darci Mort. Sorry I couldn’t take your call. If you’d like me to deliver—” 

A sharp, shrill chirp shot through the silence. 

Darci jumped. 

She ended the recording. The chirp sounded again. 

Darci left the bathroom and stood under the fire alarm in her room. She waited, but when the beep came again, it sounded closer to her left ear and not centered directly above her head. She stalked to the living room. When the chirp came again, she cringed. She blew raspberries and marched to her storage closet. Digging out her step stool, she flinched every time the alarm chirped. She cursed under her breath as the beeping continued, a fitting ambience for the annoying act of rifling through her old, dusty tool box for a battery. 

Finding one she thought might fit the fire alarm, she pocketed the battery and dragged her step stool towards the disruption. She gritted her teeth as she ascended the ladder, pulling the alarm loose, and barely avoiding dropping it as she pried open the plastic panel. She threw the old batteries on the floor. 

Hades pounced on them, flicking them back and forth between his paws before chasing them as they rolled. 

Darci secured the new batteries in the fire alarm, letting loose a sigh of relief as a blissfully silent minute passed. 

“I’m starting to think you and the house don’t want me recording this voicemail…”

Darci put away the ladder, thought about picking up and throwing away the batteries Hades was currently scrambling after, and then decided to let him play before trudging back to the bathroom. 

She took a steadying breath. She grabbed her phone. 

“You’ve reached the phone of Darci Mort. Sorry I couldn’t take your call. If you’d like me to deliver a message to your loved one, please—” 

The doorbell rang. 

Darci threw her head back and let out a loud, guttural uuuugh! 

She paced to the door and flung it open. No one was in front of her. 

She looked down to the brown package at her feet. Hades darted onto the front porch, using the box’s corner to scratch his chin. 

“Is this for you?” Darci picked up the box. She hefted it into the house. “Come on, Hades.” 

Hades sprinted between her feet into the entryway. He regarded her while she kicked out her leg, caught her ankle on the door, and slammed it shut behind her. 

She set down the box and read the label. It was for Hades. A box full of food, treats, and stupidly adorable toys. All of which could be dealt with after she made her voicemail. She gave Hades a wicked smile. “Get into it if you can.” He jumped onto the box, digging his claws into the cardboard. 

Darci again went back to her bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. It had been a productive last five minutes—feeding her cat, changing the fire alarm batteries, and getting her mail—but all she had really cared about was replacing her voicemail. She smiled at herself, pride gleaming in her eyes as she raised her phone.

“You’ve reached the phone of Darci Mort. Sorry I couldn’t take your call. If you’d like me to deliver a message to your loved one, please leave your name, date of death, the message you’d like me to deliver with any special presentation or delivery instructions, and all relevant information about your living relatives, such as their names and current residence. Thank you so 

much for your business, and have a nice eternity!”