The Numberer

With distance came perspective.

He began to see his old obsession as something known, something comfortable - and now, something he'd lost. Why hadn't he enjoyed it more? Why did he ever have to lose it?

And yet, something new had caught his eye. Although he hadn't realised it, wasn't yet aware of it, some part of his mind was working on a list: aardvark...abacus...acronym...additional... aerated...

When that part of his mind broke through the mundane surface-world, it's possible to imagine that he might feel elated.

But would he also be thinking ahead to the day when the alphabet stuttered to a halt?

Letters, after all, are unlike numbers. They can't continue indefinitely.

Would he see all too clearly the day when things would end - Zzzzzz - in a final sleep?



THE END



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