Daily story, September 30, 2025

He never could finish things. It was a fear in him, a childish sort of one that made him believe he could shut his eyes and it wouldn’t be there. Coming to an end meant this is all I can do. Coming to an end meant I think this is good enough. Coming to an end meant here is a part of me. One day he knew he would come to an end, a true end, forever, and it would do him good to get acquainted with the feeling. But that was a fear he couldn’t see even with his eyes open. So he never did finish things: when he saw the end coming, he just