You’re too late.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

And then I turned around. Looked into her eyes one last time.

And stepped over the threshold into infinity.

“It’s about time.”

I heard a voice, but no body to which I could attribute it to.

I walked towards the light. The endless light going to a horizon that extended and kept on extending until I could see no edge.

“It’s about time,” the same voice repeated.

Time for what?

Was I really too late?

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