“Every beginning has an ending”. It’s a timeless quote by Santosh Kalwar that foretells the inevitability of life and death. It’s not a reality many enjoy facing, and even I’m guilty of trying to resist the obligatory end of all good things I cherish in life. That ended my friendship with my brother to the end of this novel before me. I have been reading it for the past few weeks, completely engrossed in its messages and themes. It was the story of a man who was processing grief in unhealthy ways as he slowly started to sabotage his relationships and life. The vocabulary was meticulously written to stimulate my thoughts on emotional distress. It worked well in keeping me busy while waiting for my client to show up.

Ten minutes have passed, yet there was no sign of who I was supposed to tutor this afternoon. The library was devoid of life entirely with only the elderly librarian sitting at her front desk. I was contemplating leaving until my thoughts were interrupted by the creak of metal doors. I didn’t bother to see who entered due to my attention still being captivated by my book. I only pried my attention away from its words when someone sat down in front of me.

“You must be my client. I can assist you with just about anything,” I robotically informed the stranger, finally lifting my head. When my eyes landed on them a wash of familiarity, shock, nostalgia, and fear enveloped me. It felt like a crushing grip on my heart that prevented it from beating. My breath hitched before I reclaimed my senses once more. My hands pushed my glasses back to the bridge of my nose, revitalizing my usual composure.

“It’s you,” was all I could muster out after years of not seeing them again. Every beginning has an ending, yet here I am at square one once more.