Words are devoured by my hungry eyes, as my heart races with each syllable. How long have I spent in this book, with these characters? Hours? Days? Weeks? Within the story, I've been with them for years, decades.
I have been enveloped in their joy, been drowned by their despair. Their exquisite dream is my dream. Their morbid reality is my reality. Connected through the threads of fiction, I greedily turn the pages of their complicated lives until I am confronted with the final leg of this literary journey.
The first page of the last chapter is before me, and I find myself hesitating. To finish reading the book means I will discover the fate of the characters I've come to know and love, but it also means I will be saying farewell to them and their surroundings. With either choice there is potential heartache, so I must see it through to the end. I owe it to the characters and their author.
P.S. For those who are curious...