Aaron met his death on King's Street.
He didn't know how he recognized him. It, it, he, looked exactly like him and walked exactly like him, but every bone in Aaron's body turned cold with the knowledge: this was his death. Aaron turned the corner onto Butcher Street, and his death turned the corner onto Weaver Street. They stood facing one another, a block apart, without telling any lies to soften the space between them.
"Oh," Aaron said, the sound coming from his mouth. "Oh."
This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.
