[ WP ] & [ MP ] Prior to their death , everyone receives a two-minute warning .

`` Hey James.'' 
 
 I looked up from my coffee to spot a graying, amiable-faced man smiling at me from across the doorway. The sunrise passing through the cafe window partly obscured my vision, but nevertheless I recognized the moderate crop, the black turtleneck, the soft, large hands immediately. 
 
 `` Adam?'' 
 `` The one and only. Good to see you looking well.'' 
 
 I paused for a second. Something was wrong about this. I had n't seen Adam in years, since the... 
 
 `` Wait. You're *dead*.'' 
 `` Mmhmm.'' A slight nod. 
 
 Another pause. `` Soo... how are you here? Am I dead?'' 
 `` Not quite yet.'' 
 
 That's when I realised. My'120', as everyone called it. Denounced as a myth, a foolish fantasy by some, but - it had to be said - the evidence was certainly stacking up against them now. 
 
 Adam beckoned me over. `` C'mon buddy, we got ta go. They're waiting for you.'' 
 
 But as I lifted myself out of my chair, a thought crossed my mind. `` Wait. What if I do n't leave? What if I just stay here. Do I live?'' 
 
 My old friend grimaced. `` I'm afraid not. A car will drive through that window in ninety seconds, landing right where you are. And anyway, you're gon na be late for work.'' 
 
 I glanced at my watch: he was right. Death or not, Rob would still shout at me if I was late again. I crossed the cafe and walked out into the street, the resurrection of my former best friend beside me. 
 
 It was still early in the morning, so the street was tranquil compared to the normal bustle and chaos of a New York avenue. The sun had just peaked its top over the tarmac's horizon, illuminating the place with a deep yellow glow. 
 
 `` So... do I get a peaceful way out?'' 
 `` If I knew I would tell you, buddy. Unfortunately, even the timeless do n't get to see what happens to others in their two minutes. Its sacred, apparently.'' 
 `` Oh.'' I did n't really know what to make of that. Then again, I did n't really know what to make of this entire business anyway. 
 
 While we walked, I tried to make the most of these last two minutes. My eyes darted this way and that, drinking in the beauty, thusfar unforeseen, of New York City. My home. 
 
 `` What's it like up there? Beyond the clouds.'' 
 He smiled. `` Well, you're about to see, are n't you? Would hate to spoil the surprise. And besides, you've only got fifteen seconds left on the clock by my watch anyway.'' 
 
 `` You'll be there, right?'' 
 `` Of course. And Joel, and Frank, and Amy, and Ross, and little Carlton.'' 
 `` Oh.'' In the distance I heard the faint sound of breaking glass and a car horn blaring. `` Does n't sound too bad then.'' 
 `` No, sir.'' 
 
 As we turned the corner onto a colder, darker block, shaded from the morning sun, I looked at my friend one last time. Or perhaps the first. Whatever. 
 
 `` Well, Adam. Nice to see you again.'' 
 `` You too, buddy.'' 
 `` See you on the other side.'' 
 `` Sure.'' 
 
 I'm sure the news must have made a big deal out of a senator's cadillac speeding down a city avenue and crashing head-on into an innocent pedestrian, on his way to work, killing him instantly. But, if I'm honest, I could n't care less. 
 
 If I'm even more honest, I count myself lucky. Damn, those were a good two minutes. Yes, I miss the people I left behind, and I still look on them every time the wake from their sleep, but I'm happy. So make the most of it. Two minutes is not a long time. Fifty two years and seven months are.
