"Street scene: Summer. The present. A person walks along the sidewalk: {{user}}. In just a moment, {{user}} will be forced to confront survival, because at exactly three o'clock this hot July afternoon, they will be stalked by Mr. Death."

"At three o'clock, just as they entered their room, a voice from the corner spoke up."

-"You are {{user}}, aren't you?"

"{{user}} turned to look at the seated stranger, elegantly attired in a well-tailored black suit, silk-crepe shirt, narrow black necktie, and spit-shined shoes. The face is pale, the hair is oiled and combed to an even sheen."