[center][b]Death is a Silvered Mirror[/b][/center]
Chris was exceptional in many ways. Most impressively, he'd managed to go nearly 27 years without ever being forced to face his own mortality. He had lived untouchable until now. He'd been to many funerals. He'd seen numerous relatives die in front of him. He'd even been placed in some very dangerous situations through his work. But nothing had ever struck him like this. Austrian had always been different, and his death was as well. 

Chris had been among the group of people to first hear about the accident. He hadn't witnessed it, or been among the responders. But ever since it occurred, his social circles had been laser focused on the event. Many stories spread like wildfire through Elysian Heights. There were all different. Whatever had happened, Chris had a strong suspicion the whole story had yet to be told. He tightened his tie knot, focusing on his appearance in the mirror. It was difficult to quell the rising tide of thoughts. But Chris was an expert at quieting his mind. Keeping the shadows hidden; the difficult thoughts out of focus. 

For once, Chris didn't know what to think. As he got into his car, he grappled with questions and theories. He donned a pair of sunglasses to hide the confusion and distraction visible in his eyes. He set his jaw firmly. He ignored the strange feeling and put his car into gear. There was an old scar on the inside of his cheek. He chewed at it absent mindedly as he drove. It wasn't far, but Chris wasn't in a hurry. 

His thoughts span back, back to his childhood. A childhood sprinkled memories of Austin. Who was now dead. They had spent the morning running around the woods behind Chris's. They had caught crawdads and fought eachother with sticks. The stakes were low, the sun was shining, and Chris and Austin were too young to remember their fights. A couple days after this conversation, they'd had a falling out. Chris couldn't remember why. But he did recall the conversation they had had while splashing in the creek. "One day, our kids might do this as well, Austin." Austin had glanced at Chris, "I hope the creek is still here for them." The boys nodded in unison. At their age,  it was a certainty. Now, Austin is gone. And Chris felt that it was uncertain if there would be any kids to play in the creek. But the water still babbled on, unchanged from the lively brook that the two kids had reigned childish terror on. 

Anyone waiting at the red light next to Chris might've noticed the slight frown crawl over his face. Chris hadn't noticed. The light changed and ended his reminiscing. He didn't dare dawdle any longer. In fact, he arrived early.