[ WP ] You are death . Describe taking the last human life .

He was just past middle aged. His hair was starting to grey at the temples, but showed no sign of receding yet. Faint lines crisscrossed his face, the beginning of wrinkles. Not that it mattered much. They would not have time to fully develop. He sat in an old lawn chair in the midst of his yard, the dirty red fabric frayed. The house behind him looked rickety at best. The window panes were gone, the paint was chipped, and the door was ajar. He stared into the sky, eyes focused on nothing. 
 
 Before I could approach him, he called to me. `` I know what you're here for. I've known you'd come for me soon.'' He was interrupted here by his own hacking. Pulling a filthy handkerchief out of his equally filthy coat, he covered his mouth. When his lungs gave him a reprieve, he wiped the spittle from the corners of his mouth and tucked it away again. `` Just make it quick,'' he rasped. `` I'm tired of waiting.'' 
 
 Silently, I obliged. He did n't struggle. When I was finished, I pulled his corpse to the back of the house. I laid him next to the homemade grave markers in the back. One for his wife. Two for his sons. One for his daughter. None of them went nearly as peacefully as he had when their time came. 
 
 I stayed at their makeshift graves for a few moments before returning to the front of the house. Sitting in the chair, I stared at the sky.
