“What’s the closest you come to dying, boy?”
There was a trickle of something warm running down Gary’s neck from where the point of the knife was pressing into his skin. He hoped it was only sweat.
“Right about now, I think,” Gary said with a shaky laugh.
The scary grin widened. “You look it. Pretty boy, ain’t ya? You got a woman?”
“Not for much longer.”
“‘Cause she’s leaving, or ‘cause you’re fixing to die?”
“She’s fixing to die. It’s why I’m here.”
“What for? You want me to kill you so you don’t have to see her go?”