On Tuesday, I became briefly convinced that I would immanently be murdered. Although there was no particular cause for this feeling, nevertheless I made some preparations in light of the perceived possibility - writing, for instance, a letter to my dog, straightening the collar of my shirt, and praying for some moments into the wet soil of my future grave. Of course, when my killing did not come to pass, I was in some ways more disappointed than relieved. Thankfully, there still seems to be plenty of time for my time to run out.
I have nothing more to say on the subject, pending naturally some higher approval.