A month passes, and I am happy to say that success is at last my friend.  My book did get published and I’m sitting pretty. I decide to take a walk and maybe visit the diner where all of these occurrences first started, where this new knowledge and success was in a way injected in me. As I expected, no one was there, at least no one of importance. After having a flashback of what happened at the diner, I realize how I would have never expected for any of that to have had any kind of impact on my life. I get back into the car and drive home and I feel a sense of accomplishment in me and all I can do is laugh. Not paying any attention to the road, I crash into someone on the corner of Gross and Red, outside of the city limits.  I get out seeing if the man was alright. He seems to be breathing so I take his wallet and try to identify him. I drop the wallet in shock as I read the name Charlie Wilkinson. I start panicking not knowing what to do, and then I look up and know that this has to be a part of the big “coincidence”. The billboard on the other side of the street read my name, Robert Yorke, with the title of my newly released book “Cellar Door”. I run to the public telephone and call an ambulance telling them our location. I hang up before they could ask any more questions, so I get back into my car and start driving, not knowing where I’m going. I check into the next hotel, not attempting to even try and figure any of this out.  I lay down on the bed, disturbed by the coldness of the sheets all over my body. Tomorrow I plan to go home, hopefully with no news waiting for me.

Not being able to sleep, I wake up around 4 a.m. and go into the restroom and stare at myself in the mirror. My voice is the only thing that is comforting so I repeat to myself, “I am Robert Yorke, writer and student, and I’m at the high point in my career, nothing can stop me. Therefore I will write my little heart out until there’s nothing left to write”.  I do this until I seem silly to myself and it feels great to chuckle after a night of nightmares. I leave the hotel and head back home, the sun is still down and I feel more tired than ever. I practically run towards my bed. As I’m about to get some actual sleep, I hear someone knocking. As I walk towards the front door and all of the windows are showing red and blue lights and I realize that there is no escape from this.I answer the door and with no questions asked I’m arrested and taken to jail for the murder of Charlie Wilkinson. I’m in prison now with no bond and all I can do is laugh hysterically. My life is just a joke to that old man, he has become in some ways my God. I seem to have forgotten how to think in my own manner; instead I feel that I am just a character of some book with a man thinking for me. He now chooses what my next step in life is, and all I can do is jump from one stone to the next. All I can do is wait for that last stone so this can just end with one great ending.