Henry Dirling was an old man. He had wrinkles by his eyes, wrinkles on his cheeks, and wrinkles on his hands; it would be safe to say that there were even wrinkles on his wrinkles. His hair was pristine and white, his eyes a light cornflower blue. He was short and crooked, and had to walk with a cane ever since he was fifty.

Yes, Henry Dirling was an old man. But more importantly, Henry Dirling was destined to die ever since he woke up that morning, although he didn’t know it, of course.