A turn of the page
That’s all that stood between him and the end. Through many thousands of words he’d lived and loved and fought and cried, and now he merely had to ride the wave of words over the page to see how this all would end.
He needed closure; he needed to see his final resting place laid out before him. But here he was, trapped in limbo in the hands of a sleeping commuter. The carriage bumped and he was dropped to the floor, along with his friends and enemies and the memories he worried would shake loose from the pages with the weight of the fall.
The corner of the last page had bent when it fell, giving him sight of the blankness beyond. It was a glimpse into the afterlife, something that I dare say very few get to see. A blinding whiteness full of absence.