deathMirror

Five.

Our man Johnny is walking down the street. Stylish and cool as always.

Four.

He stops for a second to light his cigarette. Well it isn`t that simple. He gets his pack of cigarettes from his front right pocket. Chesterfield, as always. He gets out a cigarette holds it in his left hand then with his right he searches his other pockets for matches. Finds them. A single safety-match in his left hand between the thumb and the pointer. The cigarette between the pointer and the middle-finger. Cigarette in to the mouth. The match lights up. He patiently waits for the head to burn off and raises the match to the cigarette. It lights up and a nearly unobserved scent of smoke is inhaled in his nostrils.

Three.

He looks up and is absolutely astonished. The person gazing at him is nobody else but himself, in an older form. Same style. Same shirt. Same cigarette. Even the same trousers and backpack. The only difference is that Johnny has an mp3 player. They look at each other creeped.

Two.

They both let go of the match because it burnt their fingers.

One.

-You...

-Mister...

Zero.

Johnny collapses dead on the sidewalk. Heart attack. A line of chock and many tears kept him in the mind of people for a few days. But the old man remembered him until the end of his life. To be precise for 67 more years...