The Story that Ends

This is a story that has an ending.  Really.  Don't believe me?  I can prove it; I already know how it ends.  I'll tell you...

Brandon's eyes squinted open as the harsh sunlight filtered through his bedroom curtains.  He opened one eye fully and looked around tentatively, getting his bearings.  He let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding when he saw his familair surroundings.  He was home, in his bed.

His football trophies stood dusty on the shelf across the room, as always.  A pile of clothes lay rumpled at the foot of his bed, right where he had left them.  He glanced at his clock; 9:47 a.m.  It all seemed right.

He rubbed the back of his head as he pulled his legs out and onto the cold floor.  Despite himself, he smiled ruefully.  It had all felt like a dream, but he knew better.  He knew everything that had happened in the last week had been real.  Well, it had felt like a week. Perhaps it had only been a moment here.

If I tell anyone about this, they'll think I'm crazy.  Brandon still smiled at the thought of explaining it to another person.

He made his way into the kitchen, in search of breakfast.  He poured himself a bowl of Froot Loops then made his way to the fridge for the milk.  A foreign slip of paper, stuck underneath a magnet, caught his eye as he was opening the door.  Brandon squinted his eyes and looked closely at the cursive letters. 

Until next time, it said.

Brandon smiled widely; he hoped there would be a next time.

There.  That is the end to this story.  See? I told you.  I suppose you're curious now.  Well, as always, the best way to reach the end, is to start from the beginning...

The End

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