I was killed in a terrible car accident this afternoon, please leave all questions and inquiries with the pale fella in the top hat standing at the door. The last thing that went through my mind, besides shards of the windshield and my own teeth, was whether or not you read the letter I sent, it was written with all of me, my very soul dried up as the ink did, at the same pace. The pale man in the top hat showed up on the scene long before anything with flashing lights on it, almost immediately in fact. Soon as I noticed him I knew him as well as I know myself. He smiled warmly and told me not to worry about anything, that everything was taken care of. I found myself embracing memories for the last time. I don't want them anymore so I took the opportunity to say goodbye. Write them away, leave them on pages for someone else to read and do with as they whimsy. Whimsy and scenes of the future. Singularity life forms over the crash scene. All time gets folded into five dimensions, placed carefully in an envelope addressed to you and to no one. Breaking the fourth wall, audience participation, you can feel the rush and hear the air escaping from my lungs. Unfold time carefully when you open your letter, apply to the watch you don't wear. I'll wave to you through the window.