I met him once more, Death in my midst,

Waiting at the gardens, beneath the night's veil,

With the moon reigning high in the sky.

I adorned myself in red again, a red dress, red earrings, red gloves.

The carriage stood, a spellbinding spectacle,

Drawing my gaze as I examined its ethereal form.

It felt like a dream, with no horses in sight,

The carriage halted at my feet, the door unfolding itself.

There stood Death, and alongside, another figure unknown to me.

"Hello," he said, "my name is Depression."

I nodded politely, Death smirking in the shadows.

Seating myself beside Death, leaning into his presence,

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

He produced a cigarette with a graceful flourish.

My eyes shifted to Depression, revealing a black smoke,

Taking a humanoid form, a shadow with piercing blue eyes,

And white gloves that added to his mystique.

I found him intriguing; he sensed my gaze,

Inquiring, "Dear lady, why the dress of blood?

Who has wounded you?"

Glancing between Death and Depression,

I replied in a somber tone,

"Who hasn't?"

As the carriage came to a halt, Depression rose,

Preparing to depart, he looked back and uttered,

"I will see you again, dear."