She found me in the back alley, where I was drowning in affordable rot-gut. She was young, pretty and I tried to ignore her, until she sat down beside me.
“I can guess when you’re going to die,” she offered.
Too wasted to realize she was serious, I laughed at the thought and wondered what sort of scam she was running. Tipping the brown bag up, I took a long draw from the bottle inside.
There was no pain when she drew her knife’s blade across my bare throat. In fact, I didn’t feel a thing but my warm blood.