Look in the mirror. Do you see that shadowy figure standing just behind you? No? That’s because it’s not your time. But now that I’ve pointed it out to you, take a minute to look at it. Does it look familiar? It should. It’s you.
“Me?” you say.
That’s right. From the day you’re born I own you, and as long as you can’t see that dark figure you’re fine. But when you start to see it, and one day you will, then you had better put your house in order. The rule is this: the more defined the figure, the less time you have. Who made that rule? Me. Who am I? Death.