“Because that Monday was the day everything, you know, happened. And then I just kind of forgot about it.”

Fina nods. “Fair. So who is it? Who left the flowers?”

“His name is Professor Swann.”

“Were they friends?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I say. “They must have been closer than I thought, because why else would he leave her flowers?”

“Do you think—?” Fina starts. “I mean, could he have, like, loved her?”

I remember how he cried after Gram’s funeral. I think about what Ruth said when I asked her about him. I seem to recall he had a flame for someone else. Is it possible that the flame was for Gram? Could Professor Swann have—

“Oh, my god,” I whisper. “Fina, give me the backpack.”

She hands it over, and I dig to the bottom for the familiar shape of the book that’s always there. I pull it out, turning to the first page, and shine the light of my phone down to read.

The World at the End of the Tunnel

By R. M. Wildsmith

For my muse and best friend.

“I knew it,” I say breathlessly, staring at the worn writing. “I knew the handwriting in the journal looked familiar, but I couldn’t figure out where I’d seen it before.”

“I don’t get it,” Fina murmurs.

“This book was Gram’s. I always thought my grandpa wrote this inscription because of what it says, but you can’t really read the signature, can you? It matches, Fina. The handwriting matches the journal’s.”

“So you’re saying that whoever wrote this inscription—”

“—is my pen pal,” I finish.

We stare at each other. I haven’t even begun to wrap my head around what this all means when we hear a rustling noise, followed by another. The noises get closer and closer. Footsteps.

My spine goes very, very stiff at the same time that my heart goes bonkers in my chest. Fina points frantically at my glowing phone screen. I click it off.

Silently, Fina shifts her weight to peek out from the side of the rock again. Then she gives a tiny gasp.

I lean to the other side until I can make out the shape of someone moving through the trees, heading straight for the sycamore. It’s too cloudy now to make out anything other than a silhouette.

When the figure gets to the tree hollow, it stops, pulls out the journal, and flips through the pages. Looking to see if there’s a new chapter, probably. Then the figure closes the journal again. Fina reaches down to her chest for her binoculars and takes the tiniest of steps forward.

I see where her foot is going to land right before it happens.

She steps right onto the bag of Donitas, and a huge CRRRUUUUNCH sound fills the night.