“If only I’d known,” I sighed. “I’d have done things differently.”
“I hear that so often,” said Death. “Let me ask you something: would you care to live that last day again?”
“You mean, I could warn May that-”
“No,” Death said flatly. “She is mine now. But I can grant your request to live that day again, your last day, and allow you to fill it with what you will. I ask only one thing in return.”
“That…that I not warn her, or tell her what’s coming?” I said, hesitantly.
“Yes,” Death said. “Be true to your word, and give her the best day that you could have, knowing what is to come. But if you communicate her fate to her, your own life is forfeit. Do we have an agreement?”
Excerpts From Nonexistent Books 