“Why are you so afraid?”
Beneath the thing.
Beneath the story.
“Do you think the story ends here?”, she asked sincerely but still with a dash of silliness.
These were all inside but he could only manage a weak “but” in reply.
“Dear,” she pressed off her lips, “things happen between the spine of the book. Some horrific. Some joyful. Some pure. Some ugly.
The end is a fearless place. Will you remember that? Will you remember that for me?”
“Will you remind me?” he asked.
Her eyes said all the colors of yes.