An Instrument of Duty

If I am truly the grim reaper, as you say, then I must conduct myself with proper solemnity. I crept across the wooden bedside table to find an instrument worthy of such a quiet calling. There, beside an open notebook, rested a sleek silver pen with a curved metal clip. I nudged it forward with my nose until it tilted against the stack of papers, standing upright like a miniature scythe. With my black cloak draped neatly around my paws, I practiced my most dignified, thoughtful gaze into the polished timber. I believe I look quite formidable, in the gentlest way possible.