Dread solidified in her gut seconds before the tap at her door.
It was so light, but seemed to echo in her head like a death knell. She froze, her fork halfway to her mouth.
The tap came again, lighter like the sound of fingernails rapping.
Placing her fork beside her plate and rising, she knew this was inevitable from the moment she’d been born.
Silence stretched once the door opened.
He was bloodless lips and sharp teeth, his eyes soulless as they met hers.
He may be God’s perfect creation, but he was her grim reaper.