On the other side of the door was the Reaper

I knew how to know these things: by intuition or by no means. The Reaper is not always seen, it is not smelled, sometimes it is not heard; It is perceived. Sometimes like a cold wind that presages the misfortune and stimulates the howling of the dogs; Others like a sweet and sweeping shudder, a sparkle, perhaps, that reminds us that everything, even Death itself, has an end.