there's a kid somewhere in texas who can tell you when you'll die. he sits in a lawn chair in unkempt malls on the outskirts of austen most saturdays and charges whatever you're willing to pay. he stares at you for a minute like he's trying to focus on stars in the night sky then scribbles down a time on a sticky note. his face is hard to read and he doesn't smile much. he dresses in plain worn clothes that smell like cigarettes. he has a date 60 years in the future tattooed on his arm.