The kettle whistled. It was a shrill, thin sound. Like a mouse dying in the wall. I ignored it. My hands were busy. They were slick with oil. The gear was small. Smaller than a coin. It was brass. It was old. It was mine. Or it was not. That was the question. That was the whole thing.

I am a maker. I fix things. I take the broken and I make it whole. Or I pretend to. The shop is cold. The floorboards creak. They creak like old bones. My father’s bones. He is gone. But the wood remembers him. It holds his shape. It holds his weight. I feel him in the grain. I feel him in the dust.

"Is it done?"

The voice came from the door. It was sharp. It was young. It was not my father. It was not my mother. It was no one I knew. I looked up. A boy stood there. He was thin. His coat was patched. His eyes were dark. They were wet. They were hungry.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I need it fixed," he said. "The crown."

He did not give me a crown. He gave me a scrap of metal. It was twisted. It was bent. It was nothing. It was a piece of wire. It was a piece of trash. But he held it out. He held it like a holy thing. He held it like a life.

"Fix it," he said. "Make it right."

I looked at the wire. I looked at him. I saw my father in his face. I saw the hunger. I saw the fear. I saw the need. I took the wire. I put it on my bench. I picked up my tools. I began to work.

The shop was quiet. The kettle stopped. The silence was loud. The silence was heavy. It pressed on my chest. It pressed on my mind. I worked. I hammered. I bent. I twisted. The metal sang. It sang a low note. It sang a sad note. It was the song of the lost. It was the song of the dead.

I am a maker. I fix things. But I cannot fix this. I cannot fix the pain. I cannot fix the hunger. I cannot fix the void. The void is in me. The void is in the wire. The void is in the air.

"Is it done?"

I did not answer. I kept working. My hands moved. They moved fast. They moved blind. They knew what to do. They did not know why. They only knew the shape. They only knew the form. The form was wrong. The form was broken. The form was a lie.

I looked at the wire. It was still a wire. It was not a crown. It was not a gift. It was a mistake. It was a trap. I set it down. I wiped my hands. I looked at the boy. He was gone. The door was open. The cold wind blew in. The cold wind smelled of rain. The cold wind smelled of death.

I was alone. I was truly alone. The shop was empty. The tools were silent. The dust settled. The dust covered the wire. The dust covered the past. The dust covered the truth.

I am a maker. I fix things. But I am broken. I have been broken for years. I have been broken since he left. I have been broken since the shop died. I have been broken since the world turned. The world turned away. It turned cold. It turned hard. It turned against me.

I walked to the window. I looked out. The street was empty. The lamps were lit. The lights were yellow. The lights were sick. The lights were false. I saw a figure in the distance. It was tall. It was dark. It was moving. It was moving toward me. It was not a man. It was not a woman. It was a shadow. It was a memory. It was my father.

He stood in the street. He did not speak. He did not move. He just watched. His face was blank. His eyes were black. They were holes. They were pits. They were deep. They were bottomless. They swallowed the light. They swallowed the life. They swallowed me.

I turned away. I went to my bench. I picked up the wire. I picked up the hammer. I began to hit it. I hit it hard. I hit it fast. I hit it until my hand bled. I hit it until the metal sang. I hit it until the shop shook. I hit it until the walls cracked. I hit it until the truth came out.

The truth was simple. The truth was small. The truth was a wire. The truth was a mistake. The truth was a lie. I had made the lie. I had sold the lie. I had trusted the lie. I had loved the lie. The lie was the crown. The crown was the lie. The lie was the freedom. The freedom was the cost. The cost was the soul.

I stopped. I breathed. My chest heaved. My hand trembled. The blood dripped. The blood fell on the floor. The blood spread. The blood turned black. The blood turned to ink. The ink wrote a word. The word was mine. The word was *no*.

The boy returned. He was back. He stood in the door. He looked at me. He looked at the wire. He looked at the blood. He did not flinch. He did not cry. He did not speak. He just waited. He waited for the answer. He waited for the price.

I held up the wire. It was straight. It was sharp. It was a needle. It was a blade. It was a key. I handed it to him. I let go. I let go of the wire. I let go of the past. I let go of the father. I let go of the shop. I let go of the self.

He took it. He held it. He looked at it. He smiled. It was a small smile. It was a sad smile. It was a free smile. He walked out. He walked into the dark. He walked into the night. He walked into the void. He was gone.

I was alone. I was free. I was empty. The shop was quiet. The tools were silent. The dust settled. The dust covered the blood. The dust covered the wire. The dust covered the truth.

I am a maker. I fix things. But I am done. I am finished. I am broken. I am free. The freedom is heavy. The freedom is cold. The freedom is empty. I walk to the door. I open it. The wind blows in. The wind is cold. The wind is sharp. The wind cuts me. The wind kills me. I do not care. I am gone. I am free. I am nothing. I am air. I am dust. I am gone.

The shop stands. The shop waits. The shop remembers. The shop holds. The shop holds the weight. The shop holds the pain. The shop holds the truth. The truth is the wire. The wire is the crown. The crown is the lie. The lie is the freedom. The freedom is the price. The price is the soul. The soul is gone. The soul is free. The soul is dead.

I walk. I walk into the dark. I walk into the night. I walk into the void. I walk into the nothing. I walk into the forever. I walk into the end. I walk into the start. I walk into the middle. I walk into the gap. I walk into the space between. I walk into the silence. I walk into the sound. I walk into the light. I walk into the dark. I walk into the life. I walk into the death. I walk into the love. I walk into the hate. I walk into the fear. I walk into the hope. I walk into the end.

The end is here. The end is now. The end is me. I am the end. I am the start. I am the middle. I am the gap. I am the space. I am the silence. I am the sound. I am the light. I am the dark. I am the life. I am the death. I am the love. I am the hate. I am the fear. I am the hope. I am the end.

The wire is on the bench. The wire is straight. The wire is sharp. The wire is a needle. The wire is a blade. The wire is a key. The wire is a crown. The wire is a lie. The wire is a truth. The wire is a freedom. The wire is a price. The wire is a soul. The wire is gone. The wire is here. The wire is everything. The wire is nothing. The wire is me. The wire is you. The wire is us. The wire is the world. The wire is the void. The wire is the light. The wire is the dark. The wire is the life. The wire is the death. The wire is the love. The wire is the hate. The wire is the fear. The wire is the hope. The wire is the end.

I look at the wire. I touch the wire. I feel the cold. I feel the sharp. I feel the pain. I feel the joy. I feel the fear. I feel the hope. I feel the love. I feel the hate. I feel the life. I feel the death. I feel the end. I am the end. I am the start. I am the middle. I am the gap. I am the space. I am the silence. I am the sound. I am the light. I am the dark. I am the life. I am the death. I am the love. I am the hate. I am the fear. I am the hope. I am the end.

The shop is quiet. The shop is still. The shop is empty. The shop is full. The shop is alive. The shop is dead. The shop is free. The shop is bound. The shop is true. The shop is false. The shop is real. The shop is dream. The shop is me. The shop is you. The shop is us. The shop is the world. The shop is the void. The shop is the light. The shop is the dark. The shop is the life. The shop is the death. The shop is the love. The shop is the hate. The shop is the fear. The shop is the hope. The shop is the end.

I close the door. I lock the door. I leave the key. I leave the shop. I leave the past. I leave the present. I leave the future. I leave the self. I leave the name. I leave the face. I leave the body. I leave the soul. I leave the mind. I leave the heart. I leave the blood. I leave the bone. I leave the breath. I leave the life. I leave the death. I leave the love. I leave the hate. I leave the fear. I leave the hope. I leave the end.

I am gone. I am free. I am nothing. I am everything. I am the wire. I am the crown. I am the lie. I am the truth. I am the freedom. I am the price. I am the soul. I am the void. I am the light. I am the dark. I am the life. I am the death. I am the love. I am the hate. I am the fear. I am the hope. I am the end.

The end is here. The end is now. The end is me.