EPILOGUE

An old man lay on his deathbed in the comfort of his home as a nurse gently tucked him under a warm blanket. Two elderly women, twins, sat by his bedside holding his frail wrinkled hands, speaking softly to him.

And all along the pristine white walls of his room were photos of his younger self, smiling happily into the camera.

In one, he was smiling from ear to ear together with an Asian man. They were each holding a beer in their hands. The Asian man was Hans. In another, he was sitting on the floor next to a big burly man, decorating a Christmas tree. The big burly man was Marcelino. In yet another, he was standing at a podium in a doctoral gown, giving a rousing speech to the graduating crowd of Princeton. He had served as a professor in philosophy there for a good twenty years.

The old man was Tom Banks, and his time had finally come.

He closed his eyes and breathed his last. And when he finally took his first step onto the rainbow bridge, he saw her.

“Suzanne.”

“Tom.”

They smiled.

THE END