The victim was a young, attractive woman by the name of Sarah Keys. She was moderately wealthy, single, and would have been thirty in exactly two days and 25 minutes. Of course, being dead, she will never have to worry about leaving her 20’s behind her. I know how stressful that can be to some women. They tend to worry about age, as if the gap between 29 and thirty is a fiendish chasm, terrifying to cross. I myself do not see how crossing from 29 to 30 is so very much different from, say, crossing from 26 to 27, but that is the nature of women. They are vain creatures. Therefore, I believe I did her a favor, killing her before her birthday. Oh, I am sure you don’t agree. You must think I am rather terrible. I understand, honestly I do. But listen when I say it was truly not my decision. It was my brother’s. I just carry out the dirty work. Besides, she didn’t feel a thing. She was dead before she hit the ground. So please don’t think I made her suffer. Contrary to belief, I do not enjoy suffering. I actually am quite an amiable fellow, once you get to know me, though not many people do. Anyway, I hit her with a speeding truck as she was walking across the street; hurrying, you see, because she was late for work. She didn’t check both ways before crossing, a true shame. I find it a bit far-fetched that she didn’t notice a large tow truck barreling towards her, but the details were worked out by my brother. He has a dark sense of humor, you see. I must comply to my brother’s wishes, however strange they may seem. So, as I said, she really didn’t know what hit her. Do you still find me heartless? Yes, I see you do. Ah, well. I do not blame you. After all, I’ve killed many of your friends, perhaps even family before. I apologize, but that’s the way it is. People die, and you must accept that. You have such short lives anyway it is a wonder you aren’t used to people dropping like flies by now. Take Sarah, for example. She was only twenty-nine, and she was plowed down by an automobile on what seemed to be an uneventful day of the week. And, for most, it was. Do you think many people care that she is dead? Does the world stop, just for her? You would never have cared about her death if I hadn’t told you. And this, my friend, is why I am not to be hated. I very rarely interrupt your life. My brother, on the other hand, plays with your existence every single day, and yet I get the bad rap. How do you think I feel? Oh, yes, I do feel. Not quite the same way you do, granted, but I do feel. Very rarely, I may even love, though I will admit I am quite possessive of my interests. Sometimes I feel resentful, namely of my brother, who controls my very existence. But, when you are as old as I am, feelings do not come easily nor abundantly. Hmm… I see you grow weary of our little chat. Don’t back away like that- today is not your day. Not yet.
