this is the rest of the story, written on
pages inserted later, after you had already
gone to bed for the night. i'll let you in
on the epilogue after you've finished what
i slipped under your door (i hope you don't
mind; i saw your light was on, but i didn't
want to knock). i'm sorry that the ink is
smeared a little. it's the rain's fault.
(please don't start singing "Blame It On the
Rain.") i'm sorry this is so late. hopefully
its quality will make up for its tardiness.