Without getting off the couch.
It wasn’t easy using a smart phone with skeletal fingers. Special latex gloves were needed for the screen to detect a finger there at all. And no glove really fit Death’s hands. The material sagged off his bony phalanges like sausage casing before its filled.
But these were the times where if you were lonely, you had to do as the humans did. Death swiped left on the screen. It was a rare occasion that death could take a night off, sit on the couch of his sparsely furnished living room and catch up on things. Death sighed and swiped left again. The loose rubber of the glove pulled from his finger as he moved it and the phone beeped enthusiastically.
“No, no, no. I don’t want to send message. Cursed glove.”
Death slouched lower into the ample cushions of his floral-patterned sofa. At one time he thought the pretty colors on the upholstery would liven up his drab apartment, but it only highlighted the absence of other decorations. Death swiped left again and he rested his skull on his free hand as he read.
“Long walks on the beach? Sunshine?” Death sighed again, “Why not put ‘Total Cliche’ and be done with it?” he asked rhetorically.
The grandfather clock bonged once, and Death looked up to see the time. “Blast” he remarked. He swiped left several more times before stopping abruptly. He leaned forward re-reading the glowing tablet.
“… ‘This might put a lot of people off, but I work as a mortician at the county funeral home. I’m into taxidermy and punting (like boating with a pole) in my spare time. I also volunteer at the hospice trying to make people as comfortable as possible. If you can handle all of that, send me a message.’ Huh.” Death stared at the screen for a long time. At last he shrugged and swiped right.