Summary: "They skip proposal, a dying man already engaged to death."
Word Count:: 200
Every second he’s alive, every poisoned breath he takes, kills him a little inside. He knows he‘ll drown in its winds someday. Death tugs at him, bashfully kisses his palm, whispers you’ll be here soon, for our wedding night draws near. Light travels faster than sound; he’ll see the invitations long before the gatekeepers make last call. It is with an empty smile that he pretends he is blind, pretends he is deaf, pretends no one stands with a knife near the thread.
And it is with an empty smile she passes him by. Austere nod, pale, dark, unreal, hollow. A gaggle of children at her heels. He turns back; something of emptiness has hooked him, reeled him in. He forgets again that he is engaged to nothingness.
He always forgets.
But this time, it is different. When they sit and converse, he recognizes her, knows where he’s seen her before. He sees his promised one before him, her spitting image. He cannot help it. Only... her gi is wrong. Death wears hers right over left. He cares not. A flower for my lady nonetheless. They skip proposal, a dying man already engaged to death. Their empty smiles are enough.