Funny how, if you don’t watch out, your life gets made up for you without you knowing how it happened.
-Robert Coover, The Brunist Day of Wrath
I’m afraid there’s not much time. Not just for this inconsequential arrangement of words but for you, dear Reader. Just as your heart holds an unknown total of beats so your eyes hold a mysterious limit of words they will read. How tragic if this should be the last of them. Oh, to end on something as common as a noun or even mere punctuation. Run! Run from here now and place thine eyes upon those orderings of letters still praised in the streets. And pray that the last of what you read bestows a thought or word right for reverberating with your spirit throughout eternity.
Unspeak what you have just read and go. Go now!