It was 6:43 AM, and the sky was blood red. Raven Edwards sighed heavily. He shook his head and placed his silver pocket-watch back on the cracked granite counter-top. His nimble fingers aimlessly traced the familiar crevasses of the watch as his brow furrowed in concentration above his shadowy eyes. He wasn’t positive, but he thought he could remember his grandfather saying a red sky at dawn meant death. Or maybe it was luck. He didn’t know, but he hoped for the latter. For the better part of Raven’s life all he had known was death. His girlfriend and lover, Chloe, often jokingly told him that his relationship with death was more intimate than their own. Today he fervently hoped to change all that. He had been feeling a positive vibe in the months proceeding this day. A kind of benevolent caress that only marks success, but now all he was feeling was a dreaded anticipation. He shuddered and tried to ignore the icy fingertips that danced along his spine. He chuckled as he realized that this was a losing battle, and gathered up his things. As he headed out the door, he chanced one more wary glance at the bleeding sky. A flood of relief washed over him and an exasperated, breathless laugh escaped his lips. The moon was still partly visible -a lingering silver beacon in an otherwise perilous sea of decay- and he thanked the gods for the comfort, no matter how false of temporary it might be. Raven Edwards drove off in his silver Maserati Coupe feeling unthreatened by the day that laid before him.