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“I don’t understand!”

Bruno stomped around the room as the writer watched him patiently, waiting for him to settle down and get to the point.

“How can you just toss us in the garbage like we don’t matter? Whatever did we do to you except amuse you on the pages and pages of drivel you manage to fornicate with on your—”

“Bruno, take it easy. You aren’t going anywhere. You’ll always be here. All of you will be here, why do you think that would change?”

“But you’re ending it all!”

“Not all of it. You aren’t ending. I’m just moving on. Taking things in new directions.”

“I’m sure that’s how you see it.” Brett Campor’s voice came from the speakers of the writer’s computer, sounding modulated as his digital image looked up from the screen. “But think about us. This is all we have to live for. How do you expect us to feel about this?”

“Guys…”

The writer started to speak and realized that he wasn’t sure if he even had a good answer.

“Look, I know this hurts. I know it’s probably more than a little scary for you. I get that and I wish I could make it better by just waving a magic wand.”

“I don’t want to point out the obvious, but you actually do have that power in the worlds we exist in, you absurdly dense clod-brain.” Bruno sulked as he dropped down into a sitting position, leaning back against the wall.

“Okay, you got me there. But you all have had a great run. You got to entertain people and bring ideas into reality. You got to be a part of people’s lives and it’s been great for me to be there with you. But I always knew this time was going to come. I have to move on to new challenges. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“So what does that mean for us?” Brett asked from the computer.

“I don’t really know,” the writer answered, feeling awkward at having to say it.

“Because you don’t care!” Bruno said, seeming to be gaining wind. He gestured at the crowd of people that were slowly appearing around him to watch the argument unfold. “You gave us about as much thought as you do to the paper you use to wipe you ass before you—”

“Okay, stop.” The writer stood and looked around, wondering at how it was possible for so many people to fit into this small room. He put his hands up and tried to address them all.

“Bruno. You know how much I love you. You’re one of my favorite characters. You’ve appeared in more stories than almost anyone here.” He turned to the rest. “Morris. You were in the first story I ever posted. You taught me that characters don’t always have to be perfect to be interesting.” He moved down the line to the man who had just stomped out a cigar on the floor, wiping his hands off on a blood-smeared apron. “Dale. Your story in the diner with the health inspector? Loved it. How often am I going to get to use cannibalism as a punch line? You were amazing in that story and I loved writing it. And Jessie?” He made eye contact with the kid towards the end of the line. “You taught me a really important lesson too. That even though I might not think the story is scary as I’m writing it, it’s completely different for the reader. You made me realize I need to be better at trusting my instincts.”

The writer walked back to the computer and gazed down at Brett for a moment before looking back up. “I could go on with every one of you if we had time. The point is that I learned something from each one of you and even though I’m not doing these anymore, the lessons I learned fmwill always be there and I will never forget you. Don’t ever think I don’t care.”

He could sense the mood of the crowd softening. Gradually, they began to nod their understanding, if not their agreement. They turned and began to depart, slowly dissolving into the wall behind them, leaving behind wisps of steam as they went. The writer looked down at the screen of his computer but found that Brett had already left as well. Soon, all but one person was left standing there with him. Bruno crossed and uncrossed his arms, eyes glistening with what actually looked like tears. The writer approached him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t ever think that I don’t care. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. You’re more than just a piece of a story to me. Don’t ever forget that. You have something none of us have. You are eternal. Every time someone picks up one of the stories that you’re in, you get to ride again. Do you know what I would give for a gift like that?”

Bruno shook his head and shifted his gaze to the floor. When he spoke, it was so quiet, the writer could barely hear him.

“I don’t want to leave.”

The writer smiled and took him in a brief embrace before lifting his face up to meet his gaze.

“You don’t have to leave. You don’t ever have to leave. Wherever I go, you’ll be right there with me. That much I can promise. And this doesn’t necessarily have to be goodbye. You don’t know where the road will take us. Who knows what might happen?”

Bruno sniffed as he nodded, wiping moist tears from his eyes. The moment crossed between them as he finally turned to leave, dissolving into the wall as he lifted his hand for one last wave.

Finally left alone to his thoughts, the writer sat down and reclined back, gazing at the computer as he ran his mind past all the characters yet to be, the worlds and stories still out there, waiting to be told. He didn’t know how much longer the journey would be or where it would take him. The important thing was to put his feet upon that road and let the force of the river do as it wished.

There were no limits and only endless possibility.

The writer let his arms go limp as he relaxed into the chair. He closed his eyes and finally surrendered, giving himself up to the words that swept him off into the infinite future.

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