Aaron met his death on King Street.
He didn't know how he recognized it. It - he - looked exactly the same, walked exactly the same, but every bone in Aaron's body was cold with the knowledge: this was his death. Aaron rounded the corner of Butcher Street, his Death round the corner of Weaver Street, and they stood face to face a block apart, with no lies to soften the space between them.
"Oh," Aaron said, the sound coming from his mouth. "Oh."
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
