[ WP ] Everyone dies on their birthday , but no one knows at which age it will occur .

There's a solemn silence hanging over us as we busy ourselves with the preparations, the special kind of silence reserved only for birthdays. Although they all smile at me and pretend nothing is going on, mother and father and Theo, I can feel their eyes bore into me as soon as I turn my back. I hate it. 
 
 I hate the short lived attempts at nervous conversation. I not knowing if I'm going to live through the day. But most of all I hate that my mother always has a first aid kit at hand, as if I'm frail and could need it at any minute. I wish I could tell her that if I'm going to die, I'm going to die and a band aid and a kiss on the cheek wo n't make it all better, but instead I sit in gloomy silence and watch the clock. 
 
 And then the clock strikes midnight and there's a collective sigh of relief around the table. `` Well done, my boy'' Father says and claps my back, as if I had accomplished some great feat of strength. Mom just beamed at me, teary eyed and sniffling. Theo just grins and says `` Better luck next year''.
