Death died on a dark night

When Death died, it was dark outside, yet the moon shone brighter than the sun. His hat lay black on the grave, and his smile, never on his face, was more absent than ever.
Naturally, it was a scene, fit for his death, the final hour of Death himself.
He wondered. As they let him down inside his grave, he wondered. Where was Fate on this dark night, where was she when the bright light of the moon decided to shovel up his grave with silken fingers and shovels.
Yet all he remembered was a kiss on a street corner, covered in damp, neon streetlight.
Death…
Another shovel of earth hit his body.
Death…
He closed his eyes and thought of nothing anymore. He knew he had missed thousands of appointments, but a billion and one were the same to him – impossible, paradox, just like his own death.
"You know that this…"
"Hm." He knew that this wasn't only fate. It was… something even less real than her or himself.
She kissed his cheek and a tear dropped down as Death sunk yet deeper down into the soil.
"Joy became careless and Hate killed his brethren. This is Justice, and he is final."
"Hm."
"We all-" Her voice ceased for a moment. "We all are fated to meet justice, at least once."
"What about you?" His voice sounded strange, soft and dark, yet not used to speaking. He had spoken twice in his life now. Still she didn't look happy to hear his voice, even though it was her very first time.
"I", she whispered, "am fated to rebel against my fate, and suffer for it if I must."
With that she began to dig, searching for the hands of her love.
The only one who always did it right.