People die, George said. Old. Young.  Poor. Rich. Eventually, we all just go away. He poured himself a vodka, tossed an ice cube in the glass. Some folks look forward to it; death. And others live their whole lives in fear of it. They run, diet, avoid booze, no drugs, no fun. They just pray and go to church. Marry the right girl. Start a family. Do all the Bible tells them to do.  Why? Cause they’re terrified.  Terrified of death. George looked Frank square in the eye and asked him, are you scared to die? Frank nodded yes. I thought so. You put on a good mask, but I see right through it. You never fooled me. The old queen pulled a pistol from his hutch drawer. He didn’t point it at Frank right away. He just held it by his side. Have I not given you enough? He asked. Money. Clothes. A place to live. All this. Just for the company of a boy. He laughed. And you fuck around behind my back. Men. Women. An everlasting hard-on. That’s what you have, dear heart. I’m going to miss you. Sweat dripped off George’s face. He gripped the gun tighter. Frank stood quiet. He pointed the gun at the hustler.  Goodbye, dear boy. Goodbye.

And then he shot him.