Personal Narrative: Willy Loman's Death Of A Salesman

I've heard stories, stories of people who have travelled into the forest for a walk and were met by an unnerving, smiling, salesman asking, “have you bought your life insurance?” Other stories of bodies found with red around their neck and fear frozen on the face of their pale corpse, with a pamphlet for life insurance tucked neatly into their right pocket. But I've heard the truth first hand.

At a small suburban town many years ago, there was once a simple happy salesman with a simple happy family who had a simple job selling life insurance to people in this simple happy town. But one day it became apparent that things weren't quite as simple or happy as they seem. The salesman and his wife were burdened by growing debt and caring for a sick child. More and more they strived to make ends meet, and behind closed doors there were no smiles and there was no simplicity. The salesman did what he could; door to door as the summer's sweat trickled down his back. He wore his biggest smile. (Knock, knock, knock) “Have you bought your life insurance?” the salesman would ask, but this quiet, simple town saw no need for this thing, and as such, the salesman could make no sales nor meet his quotas.
Day by day, door by door, his smile grew bigger and bigger, but his bills stacked higher and higher, and his child grew sicker as his marriage decayed. One dreadful day, while going door to door on the strait edge of the town, the salesman knocked his last knock and smiled his biggest smile, “have you bought your life insurance?” the salesman inquired, and as the last door closed in front of his manic smile, he felt a vibration in his right pocket. Picking up his phone, he answered to be told that his final possessions were being repossessed and that he must declare bankruptcy. He clicked the phone off, a strange smile stiff on his face and after a moment of silence that seemed to last an