It’s Over

On the thirteenth of March 2013, I wrote:

“Look, boys,” said Mother. “Someone has sent you a package.”

Ten years, ten months, and twenty-five days later, I put the final fullstop (period, in the US) on the final sentence. And the tale ended.

Oddly, there was no jubilation. I did not punch the air in celebration. I took the cigar I had been saving for years to mark this event and smoked it on the balcony in a state of stunned melancholy. For the two days after that, I walked around feeli...