11:00 P.M.

10:13 P.M.

The night is calm. The sky is starless. The darkness is heavy. I stand here on my balcony, smoke a cigarette, and observe the street beneath me. The street is empty. No souls wander down there. The silence is unusual. Never has it been so quiet here. Weird…

10:17 P.M.

I finish the cigarette and return to my room. A book sits on the bed. It’s a book of love and a book of death. I lie down on the bed and continue to read this fascinating book.

10:28 P.M.

I lower the book on the bed, stand up and go to the bathroom. As I pass by the mirror, I notice something weird. I stop and look at myself in the mirror. My skin… so pale… my eyes… so lifeless… What is this?

10:42 P.M.

My phone starts to vibrate. I pick it up: 7 unread messages. They are all from my wife, and they were all sent two hours ago.

1st message: “I’ll be coming home late tonight. This job is crazy.”

2nd message: “You don’t have to make me dinner. I’ll eat something at work.”

3rd message: “Come pick me up. My car won’t start.”

4th message: “You don’t have to come. I heard there’s been an accident on the road. It will be blocked for an hour at least.”

5th message: “Are you home?”

6th message: “Why aren’t you answering me?”

7th message: “Honey…”

How didn’t I hear my phone before? Damn it… I type in a message: “I’m home, honey. I’m waiting for you.” I press send, but it fails to send the message. Damn it!

10:48 P.M.

I light another cigarette on my balcony. My wife still hasn’t come home. Fear rises in me. Where is she? Despite that accident, she should’ve already come home. My poor wife… She works for the entire day. She deserves some rest.

11:00 P.M.

Someone rings the doorbell. It’s probably her. I run to open the door. I open them and see a hooded figure standing there.

“Honey?” I ask with a hint of fear.

The figure lowers its hood. “Come…” it whispers.

My heart skips a beat when I see the figure’s face. Well, there is no face. There is only the skull… and the pale eyes that pierce my soul. What is this vile creature?

“Who… who are you?” I ask.

“Oh, I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself. I am Death.”

“Why is Death knocking upon my door?”

“Because your time to leave the mortal realm has come.”

“But how?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Death says and raises its hand. “Take my hand and come now.”

“But I…”

I don’t even finish the sentence when Death grabs me by the hand and pulls me out of my apartment. It takes me out of the building and into the silent street. We walk through the street toward the light at its end. I try to resist it, but soon I give in. Overwhelming tranquility conquers me. Finally, I feel free…