The evening would mark the first of many dances with Mr. Brownstone for young Jane
Doe. He was the most pleasant of suitors. He was even-tempered. He was never hasty. His
sensation would slip into her veins slowly and fade away just the same. Her friend brought him
over that night. Her friend loved him. She was willing to share him for the night. Her friend
guided her into a room where Jane and Mr. Brownstone could be alone. They danced in the light
of a dim lamp in the corner. Afterwards, Jane sat on the couch and nodded off.

He was new and exciting to young Jane Doe. After one dance with Mr. Brownstone, she
knew she was in love.

Years passed and old Jane Doe had grown tired of Mr. Brownstone. They danced
more and more each day, yet the passion of their first dance had faded long ago. One day, old
Jane Doe mustered up the courage to speak to Mr. Brownstone and finally end their relationship.

“I cannot handle you anymore. You bring me no pleasure!” cried Jane.

“I can see you are broken darling, but I am afraid I can offer you no sympathy. You made
the choice to love me,” responded Mr. Brownstone.

“It can’t be too late to choose otherwise!” retorted Jane.
“I am afraid it is. You should have known you could never leave after a dance with
me,” remarked Mr. Brownstone.

The night after their conversation, old Jane Doe awoke to the sound of knocking on her
door and a needle’s soft caress. It was Mr. Brownstone. He had brought along a close friend of
his. His name was Death.