Grief is everywhere and unavoidable. While they crash like waves, the stages come through as tides.

And I have been running in the opposite direction for a long time, holding onto the sliver of hope I had crushed a while back.

Today is his birthday. It is June 3rd, 2019. He would have turned 20, and we would each be heading into our first or second year of college.

Unfortunately, fate does not give grace to its victims, but it does challenge its favorites—if it even has any.

Part of me wonders if I was thrown off the world, then pulled back on as a test, but stealing Bryson away from me as a punishment for failing.

Either way, the past is settled, and there is no changing it.

Opening my eyes, I squint at the bright sky. The sun is blinding, setting my body on fire with its rays, but the grass beneath me is cool; slight moisture dampening the back of my t-shirt.

He disliked the summertime, despite his birthday being during it.

Growing up, he played hockey, following in his older brother, Tyler’s, footsteps, so that may be part of the reason he was so drawn to winter.

I close my eyes again. It is too much.

Everything has been lately, yet I can’t seem to get enough of it.

During junior year, I was in desperate need of a reprieve, but now? I am beyond numb to the point of returning.

My heart is heavy with feelings my brain cannot process, and my lungs feel like they’re tightening at the thought of them—of him.

I do not know which is better.

Would I rather forget him or remember him?

What would be the cost for moving on?

I wish there was a switch to make my head quiet.

Rolling over onto my stomach, I peek my eyes open and stare at his headstone.

Light grass stains and small cracks make up part of it.

My chest tightens.

“Hey, detective Wright.”

The world around us is too quiet, and my head feels clouded—as if the walls are literally closing in.

I swallow harshly.

“I would ask how you’re doing, but it’s not like I’ll get an answer.”

The Earth remains still.

I glance down and an image of him from a memory pops into my head.

He wore a short but textured, dirty-blond haircut that was always parted in the middle. Pristine, tan skin along with a well-defined jawline and high cheekbones made up his facial structure.

Mentally trailing my eyes over him in my head, I pause when I reach his eyes.

Happiness, sadness, frustration, confusion—I have seen every single emotion displayed in them.

But my favorite look was when he glanced at me with love.

If only I had realized sooner, maybe there would be a possibility that things would have changed, and we would have survived the tragic ending of us.

Even so, you cannot work your way around fate.

Almond-shaped eyes with light green and gold flecks made up his irises. The edge of his eye faded to a darker green on his left than his right, but he had long, thick, blond-eyelashes that rimmed the top and bottom.

I miss being able to see them in person.

Heck, I miss him in general.

“Dante and Natalia are engaged now,” I tell him with a smile, my eyes burning. “They are definitely an interesting pair.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, I continue. “Aaron got offered a scholarship at the same college Erik got accepted into, so they are doing well.”

I bite back my bottom lip, fumbling with it for a moment. “Part of me is happy that they’re both getting out of here because, I mean, Aaron deserves it after everything, and Erik has worked so hard.

“But there is always that little bit of me that thinks about you and remembers you cannot see us now, though I know you would be proud.”

It is getting hard to grapple my emotions.

“Dillon is still the same wide-eyed boy he was back in seventh grade when I first met him, except he met this real pretty girl, who Dante calls, ‘Little Liz.’”

My mouth closes, and I glare at his grave, something in my head splitting.

For a moment, sensitivity takes over, and I strangle out, “As much as I don’t want to, I can’t help but envy them, because that could have been us.”

A tear slips down my cheek, and a sniffle is my pathetic attempt at gathering myself.

“It shouldn’t hurt this badly to love,” I cry. “You let me with the, ‘what if?’”

—

A mouthful of accusations and a river of tears later, I drag myself up from the Earth, parting from my deceased lover.

I came to the conclusion that it would be best for me to leave. Dread coursed throughout my body as I began to walk away, but I reminded myself of one thing.

It was now or never, and I cannot live with the dead. There is no surviving off of what isn’t there.

Note: This is unfinished, and there are a few things missing, though I hope you enjoy what is there so far!

One time I was staying over with Caroline Moriarty. I loved staying over with Caroline because the house was so big and busy and there were people and animals around. I got so lonely sometimes at our place and bored. I liked that a Caroline’s there was always something going on. Someone making something in the kitchen, someone watching something on TV in the den, someone playing a game in the basement, someone doing something out in the yard. An animal to pet, a dog to go for a walk with. Someone to help with some mundane chore. My Mom liked to spend a lot of time alone reading. To some extent, I did too, but I also liked spaces where I could join someone doing something interesting or new. In any case, the Moriarty’s went to the Catholic Church in Fairview and this was where Caroline’s grandfather was buried. After the service everyone would go to his grave and pay their respects. They always put down flowers. Caroline didn’t remember her grandpa too well. She said that the only thing she really remembered about him was that he wore checkered pants, aftershave that smelled like limes, and that he spent most of his time in an easy chair watching tv. He liked horse races, she said. And classic movies. She found both of these boring.

If you have stumbled upon this journal, greetings. My name is Dr. Floris Gardener I was a medic during World War II. I’m running out of time and I must confess my final thoughts as I lay here on my bed in the comfort of my own home. You see I was diagnosed with a fatal disease. Feel free to share a laugh with your mates. Imagine the irony of a medical doctor getting fatally ill. We found it early but, I chose not to fight it. As you can guess it has gotten much worse. I am unable to stand and I cough out blood from time to time. You might be wondering why I chose death over life Well… When you come face to face with death for a living, you no longer fear it. I have witnessed so much pain in my life as you can guess it would surely make your average person quite mad. Perhaps I am mad… maybe just a little. But aren’t we all? As I look back on my life I have lived through two world wars. I’m 57 now and the longer I live the more painful it becomes to live in a world where so many problems persist. I’ve witnessed so many of my best mates crying pleading for their lives in agony and the very first thought in many of their minds was “I don’t want to die”. I can vividly remember every instance that I had to look at them dead in their watery big red eyes and say “You will be ok ” Your wife and kids will be waiting for you when we come back. I Promise. I lied and I had to lie often. I had to lie so much that I had to question reality. I prayed to whatever Gods where out there that this was all a nightmare but, it felt as if the nightmare was on a loop. It always came back around. I cried a lot in those earlier times eventually, I grew accustomed to the scene of death and its stench. The smell of blood, slaughter, and burning flesh from a corpse that exploded with missing limbs. As I look outside my severely cracked window, I see a world that is split into many different pieces. The deeper the cracks the more fragile it becomes then, it shatters. I wonder how deep the cracks are in this world before it too shatters. If you haven’t guessed I also have a bad case of PTSD. That causes me to have random panic attacks and really bad nightmares. I forgot to mention I have a wife who I once loved more than life itself. Now she has to see me lay here hopelessly on this bed as the clock keeps ticking. Each tick of the clock becomes louder and louder, one step closer to death. However, I never thought how this might make her feel. She has had a tough time seeing me in my current state. It hurts me every time I see her crystal blue eyes she can’t hide the pain from me. The world was once colorful and beautiful where you had hope for a future, and now it looks black and grey but perhaps it is from the smoke and debris of collapsed buildings. You see, we are currently rebuilding. London was heavily bombed by the Germans so, I can’t quite seem to escape chaos it follows me around like a shadow. As humans we look for a God to instill hope in us but, that hope has now perished. How can a God if it’s out there allow such suffering and relentless violence? No human should have to see what I saw on that battlefield. I saw the shift from humans to savages. Despite losing hope for myself I genuinely hope my wife finds it. She is much younger than I am. She is 49. She still has time to seek it. In many ways, I feel like I have been the anchor that is holding her back from happiness. I’m a defeated fragile human who cannot look after himself. I’m no longer a man, I’m no longer the man I once saw each morning in the reflection of the mirror. And I’m no longer the same man I was. She fell in love with a man who sought to help others and was kind, not a man that is crazy. My mind has turned its back on me, it has abandoned me. I’m forever lost in the images of war and death. I’ve worked myself to death mentally and physically. I endured long hours trying to keep soldiers alive but the images still haunt me when I close my eyes. Often I can’t sleep at night. I’m afraid of dreaming and reliving memories I wish I never had. That battlefield killed my soul. No matter how hard I try I will never be back to the man she fell in love with. How is that fair? For as often as conflicts happen between humans the result has always been the same, People die, the World economy dies, rebuilding and meeting the same fate. Fighting isn’t supposed to be a part of our human conditioning yet we continue to fight pointless wars for political gain and greed. Then the loop makes its way around again. Is it selfish of me that I chose to die? Or is it selfless? I cannot decide. Does it really matter? I would like to think that I’m doing it for her. I love her dearly but I can’t be the same person she once loved. Perhaps she will find another somewhere out there. Someone who will make her happy, not someone she will feel sorry for when she looks at his carcass slowly rotting in front of her own eyes. My mind was the first to go. I’m simply a shadow of my former self. I’m lost in the labyrinth that is my mind. I was broken beyond repair. Perhaps my illness was a sign from a God that it was truly for the best, the best for me, and the best for her. Or maybe this was the first decision I really had control over.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid. Is there a God? Was I a good person? Was I a bad person? I think these are thoughts that would be considered normal for humans to feel. I feel like calling my wife over and confessing to her. She does not know about the chance I had to fight my illness. Will this be the sin that sends me to Hell? Lying to her so that she can be happy? Looking after those you love? I would like to spend my final moments with her to let her know I still love her and that is why I had made this sacrifice. You know I regret many things as I look back now. I regret that we never started a family together, I regret being born in such a chaotic time. It killed my happiness. I regret fighting a STUPID war! That ruined my life. Despite the sacrifice of those who died on the battlefield and suffered for those who will never understand who you were and what you stood for. I must call her. Not much time is left. I feel death staring me down at the edge of the slightly open door. Further in the distance, I can see my wife Daisy’s blurred figure, sitting on the couch wither her legs up to her chest hugging her knees tight like she was giving her legs a bear-tight hug. I feel the gravity pushing down on my chest. “ DDDaiseeh!!! *Cough Cough” Floris screamed out to the utmost power his body would allow. She came rushing in wiping her eyes on the way to the room. She peeks in slowly moving reluctantly. In a soft voice that cracked when she said “ Yyyyesss dear? Is there anything you would like me to do? Do you need to go to the restroom again? Or are you hungry? “No Daisy, I just wanted to see how you are holding up.” says, Floris. “ I’m doing ok…. I’m happy you are back” “ was she really happy to see me?” Floris thought. “Is she lying?” “Does she think I’m dumb?” “ I can clearly hear the pain in her voice.” “I can see she is sad.” “It hurts me so much to see her looking at me like that with those glimmering big blue eyes that show a shine that is hard to ignore.” “ PLEASE do not look at me like that…” “ Yes, I’m happy I’m back!” Floris says silently with a fake smile. “ I can see your face every morning when I wake up for a change, instead of other men.” Daisy gives a silent chuckle that shows parts of her teeth. “That is the last image I wanted to see…”.

My breath looks like smoke in front of me. I walk down the side walk, my coat keeping me warm, well besides my heart. Nothing could ever warm it, and I had except that long ago. I fold my arms across my chest, keeping my head up. The morning sun is rising slowly, blinding me. It brightens the clouds. I look up, hearing the echos of our laughter as we gazed at the puffy white sky. That was something that no one could replace, or take. “I love you,” she whispered to me, her brown eyes sparking in the sunlight. We lay on our backs, the clouds drifting across the sky. I turn my head to look at the side of hers, “Why?” I ask. She turns her head to face mine, her face lights up almost brighter than the sun. She smiles her white teeth shinning. “Well, Damon. Why do you love anything?” I smiled back, a true question. But still one I had no answer for. “Because,” she whispered, “You were the first to make me feel alive. I was invisible before, and you were the only who had the eyes to see me.” I gave her a small smile, “Everyone saw you. You have to be blind to miss your smile.” She giggled, her eyes lingering on mine, “I love you,” she whispered.

I smiled, as I replayed the moment over and over. It was the beginning of my life. The start of a new chapter. And now, as I walk alone wondering how I could have managed a life so perfect. I had a girl who loved me like she was dying. And a perfect daughter who could spread happiness like wildflowers. The only thing I hate about my life is that it can’t last forever. Everything comes to and end, weather we’re ready or not.

“I want to thank you,” I say, holding Maya’s hands tightly in mine. She’s wearing a head band that’s covered in diamonds. Her smile is sparking as the trees above us blow in the breeze. “For giving me everything I’ve ever wanted. A love that is passionate, full of adventure, heart break and even a little danger. There’s nothing for I could ask for,” I pause letting her golden eyes melt me like an ice cube, “Expect for it to last forever.” She looks down, her eyes closing as a tear slides down her cheek. The fall breeze makes shivers run up and down my arms. “I love you,” she lifts her chin to meet my eyes, “I’ve always loved you. And if it were my choice I’d want to be with you,” she gives me a small grateful smile, “Forever.” I don’t wait, I claps her face between my hands and kiss her, before we’ve been told. Letting her white dress blow in the soft breeze.

I come up to the small grave yard. My breath shaking as I walk around. The only color here are the sunflowers that I carry in my arms. I come up the a small grave, kneeling as I place the flowers gently against it. The fall breeze is just the day my life started so many years ago. “Maya,” I whisper, kissing the tips of my fingers before I place it on her name, “I will love you forever.”

Nothing can last forever. Happiness is not infinite. There will be pain and suffering and loss. Thats just life. There is always an end. I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. I never thought I’d have to bury the love of my life only months after marrying them. I never expected to be a widow at 22. We were supposed to grow old together, that was when the end was supposed to come, not now. Now this is the end of our story, or at least the part we walked together. Now I have to do this alone, live through this grief while not letting it end me. I look down at my bump and rest a hand on it. We’re got this little one, this isn’t the end of our story, just the end of a chapter in our lives.

As the Reaper, I’ve walked through many graveyards. The grim tombstones cold and dark as they wither away with each passing day standing side by side in neat rows have always seemed lonely to me. I often find souls curled up near their grave or looking at their tombstone, lost. I like to spend time with these lost souls. I have them take a walk with me as I make my rounds around the graves, placing a flower in front of each tombstone. Sometimes these lost souls ask questions while others walk in silence, watching me out of curiosity. When I finish my rounds, I help them say their last goodbyes, then bring them off the road of the living and into the world of the dead. Also know as “The Last Stop.”

City walls shimmered. City walls warped. City walls began to melt. City walls fell at last. City walls…

Your eyes rolled backwards. Almost painfully far. Should eyes be able to scan the back of the socket?

You never got your answer as darkness swept in.

Down. Down with the city walls you tumbled, into wreck and ruin.

Somewhere far away, in the Facility, the puppeteer slammed their fists onto the blank face of their desk. Such was the force emitted that even the computer leapt with fear, as pens and pencils launched themselves over the edge in desperate bid of survival. Reams of paper took flight, circling in momentary glee before drifting away to who knows where.

“No!” Was the only word that gripped the walls in terror. Paralysed, all the plastered brickwork could do, was repeat the single syllable in ever decreasing whispers.

Feet froze in mid-motion as their revolutionary chips stuttered and blipped. One by one, with dazed expressions the workers resumed their tasks, unsure of what they were really doing- for long ago they had lost their sense of automation.

The bank of sentient computers blinked in frantic code, trying to regain control of the aimlessly wandering workers. Uncontrolled minds were dangerous minds. They had the power to breach the Law of Revolution. At last, with a collective whir the machines settled back into their daily routine… all but one.

Bewildered seemed to be your new state of existence. Another tidal wave of cleanliness scrubbed your sinuses free of all contaminants. Another day, another hospital- or was it another Facility?

Wearily you swiped away the rheum that glued your eyelids tightly shut. A single dainty sneeze waltzed from your nose. And that was it. You were awake, with minimal pain and that made for a welcomed change.

Shuffling awkwardly upwards you surfaced from the surprisingly comfy embrace of the duvet, though regimental in colour it seemed to care about the wellbeing of the occupant. Your eyes caught sight of the quite pondering glass, filled to the brim with icy water. Microscopic droplets of condensation misted the crystal glass, casting a strange translucent veil. Carefully, not wanting to spill a single drop, you grasped the glass and raised it to your lips.

Your thirst quenched, you waited. The unseen clock ticked away steadily, eating away the seconds that are allocated to every being. Some have more and others less. Seconds add up to minutes, and minutes add up to hours, and so forth and so on.

No crippling command gripped your mind in a tight electronic fist. Did you dare rebel against the mission forced upon you?

A sly grin was all you needed to creep up your cheeks to know the answer. Seeing a regimental dull blue button with a single word taped above: CALL.

“Beep,” as all the average sized button said, as it was pressed. Unsure whether that was a good or bad noise, you contemplated whether to press it again- for good measure.

However, there was no need to because the aching hinges creaked open revealing… a member of the Night Guard. Mentally facepalming yourself, the worm poked its head above the blanket of drowsy intent, you were meant to kill someone and take their role.

“Good morning! How are you feeling?” Chirruped the fresh-faced Night Guard.

Massaging your temples, you composed the letters that ran rampant through your mind, “I feel better thank you, the water was most welcome,” You motioned toward the empty glass, “Is there a senior member of staff I can talk to?”

“A senior member of staff?” Their eyebrows knitted together in confusion, “I was detailed that you had been found passed out just inside the city walls. You were severely dehydrated.”

“Please this is urgent! I’m not sure how much longer I will have control of myself,” You begged with everything you had, including melting your eyes as you had seen the dogs do.

Nodding slowly, “Of course.” Shutting the door tightly, they smartly hurried down the corridor. They weren’t used to being given orders by a citizen, and a beetle of anxiety began to gnaw at their small intestine.

Terrified hands twisted and folded the corner of the duvet, would the Night Guard relent and find the help that you desperately needed?

While back in the Facility the mastermind of the new age stormed up to the Computer Room. Only to find the three-armed worker slumped uselessly in the hall.

“You useless oaf get up!” They placed a well-aimed boot into the workers ribs, eliciting a groan. Hauling the tri-uman by the tattered collar, they slammed the body into the walls sending devious lines running across the plaster work.

“It seems as they you are incompetent at your duty, I shall have you redeployed after you have undergone some upgrades,” They hissed at the now crumpled form, a singular river of crimson trickled down the tri-uman's temple.

Flattening the door they entered, a tempest of anger blazed out of control behind unbecoming orbs of hatred. Their newest creation was offline, and unreachable. Winter’s flowers of frozen water bloomed in their veins... Could this be the end?

The Senior Night Guard listened to you, stunned into silence, as your words unravelled from your lips. At last, you ceased speaking, inhaling heavily as if drowning under the weight of treason.

“I must get the chief doctor to examine your head, if I may, to be sure you are telling the truth,” The bristled curl of his mastache spoke with certainty.

Bowing your head in consent, you observed how the tricorn covered head craned around the door, which was followed by a sharp whistle of authority. The corridor came alive with the sound of rushing feet, though frantic they were cautious not to trip.

“Yes, sir?”

There was no one in sight, yet you heard the words with a crystal ring.

“Examine, this patient's skull. They say that they have been experimented on by an unknown person at a place they believe to be called the Facility. If what they say is true, then we must act with urgency.” The towering Senior Night Guard squinted at the floor, tilting his head as if a spasm had taken over his body.

A small tickle hopped onto the single toe that you had left exposed, recoiling it sharply into the safety of the covers you heard a startled squeak followed by a bizarre plop.

“If you are to be examined, you must let the doctor get near to you!” Chided the Senior Night Guard, as he bent and scooped up something very small.

Marching to the side of your bed, he lowered his well-toned hand onto your shoulder. Pushing your eyes to the very corners of their sockets you just caught sight of a cricket. Its antenna waved jovially as it greeted, “Good morning, you are most welcome here. Now I shall give you a thorough examination.”

What proceeded this polite sentence was the most frightful investigation of your entirely life, it took every ounce of good citizenship not to squirm and wiggle the doctor from where she was perched.

“Ahh, see here sir, this tiny incision behind the left ear?”

Carefully, the Senior Night Guard pulled back the lock of hair that hid the doctor and the incision, his breath forced a rise of heat in your cheeks, “Yes, I see.”

“Now this is where the chip was implanted. At least that is what I think it is, I would need to take an x-ray to be sure.”

“What does this chip do?”

“It will allow someone to control this person- sorry I don’t know your name- if the someone had the correct computer software and passcode.”

“Oh! Why are they helping us then?”

“I believe it is because they have gone out of range.”

“Well, that does explain a lot,” you interjected.

“I think we need a plan,” firmly said the Senior Night Guard.

“Agreed,” You and the doctor agreed in unison.

Death is one of those things you might be able to prepare for, but it knocks you over when it happens. Once the services are done and the casserole dishes scraped and put away, you're left with an emptiness that aches to the very core of your being. It's the finality of it, the knowledge that the one you loved, the man that raised you is gone. No more calls. No more texts. No more barbecues.

You could search your whole life and never meet a man like him. The kind of guy that would give you the shirt off his back, and the cash in his pocket, no questions asked.

A proud American and a veteran, he was a corporal during the Korean war. He never saw combat and often joked the only fighting he ever saw was swatting the giant mosquitoes in Oklahoma.

The end of his life came swifter than any of us thought. Happy Fathers Day, you have lung cancer, gone the Sunday before Thanksgiving. The weeks leading up to his passing were an endless array of tests, medication changes, and hospice care. He was 86 and decided from the beginning no treatment and no resuscitation measures.

God was with him at home and I was honored and blessed to be with him when he left this earth.

The grief never goes away, it just changes. You recall beautiful, funny memories instead of pain and sickness. I miss him every single day and want so much to be in his presence again.

I love you Dad. My hero.

“I’m sorry, Veronica. I could have saved you. But I didn’t. And I cannot forgive myself for what happened. I promised I’d deliver flowers to you…every day. I’m getting old sweetie. I can barely remember my own name.”

Zachary sat in a chair with a bottle of pure vodka. Fifteen years ago his wife, Veronica J. Wilton, was killed from a burglary. Zachary had been pushing for an investigation and yet none was made. The new order that controlled the world, ICPA, Stated that no investigation was needed as this was an accident. They never found who did it.

“I’m gonna get those people. For you. And Violet.”

Violet J. Wilton had been in critical condition for years. He watched from a window of a hospital as she grew up.

“I promise I will bring this to light. ICPA and all. Don’t worry. This was not an accident.”

As he set the bottle down. Three men in suits were approaching him. He glanced over and had a revolver ready. Knowing they were coming to arrest him for breaking several laws.

“So you finally caught up with me…not this time!”

He drew his revolver and fired but only one shot hitting all three of them in the chest causing a fatal blow. He put it back in his holster and put his hat on. Walking away he took one last look at Veronicas grave. He shed a tear and run away from the danger that was to follow.

“I will get these people! For you Violet!”

An agent from ICPA would look up to see his death of a 76 year old man. Still agile yet having health problems he would kill several agents of ICPA. He trusted no one. Not even his own brother.

“Father enough!”

A sweet, yet threatening, and elegant voice would call out to him. His first born son. Mishanoria.

“Please just stop what you’re doing. I know you want revenge but it’s been fifteen years.” Mishanoria said hesitantly.

“You don’t know what it’s like, son! To see your wife dying in your arms and it being ignored as if it never happened!” Zachary turned around with tears rolling down his face.

“Father you are insane! I had Booker as a father for ten years of my life! When he finally died I was finally a free boy!”

“And this matters how? You’re working for a corrupt system. A system that doesn’t want to help people. So I suggest you let me go or I will kill you!”

They both stood in front of one another not wanting to kill each other but also not wanting to break any more laws. They stood for thirty minutes before a shot was fired. It had hit Zachary’s son. Zachary ran away in fear that he would be next.

“…I’m sorry Mishanoria. Maybe you can join your real mother…”

Zachary would run off while he would go missing. Never to be heard from again. For that very moment.

The day you were diagnosed with cancer was not the worse day of my life. It was just a prelude to it. I remember the doctor was so cold and just told you like it was nothing. No heart or feeling behind the words that were spoken to you. It was at this time that I lost hope in the humanity of our medical field. I felt like I was dying inside too, but I knew I needed to be strong for you. The hardest thing for me to say to you was it is your choice and I will support you with whatever choice you want. You could not even stand being in the patient room. You needed to go to the car as you were hyperventilating from the shock. I stayed there to get what was needed. I didn't want to think about what you were going through. All I could think was this is my mama and I still need her. You were so strong....your decision was to not get chemotherapy instead was to go to Mexico for alternative treatment. I researched everything I could find and bought different supplements for you to use. I felt like I was in a race against time. Life would not be the same as it was turn up side down. No planning for future just living in the present....enjoying the time I had with you. I didn't know how to be I just felt like my heart was being ripped from my chest as I lived your last days with you. I loved you so fucking much. You were my mom.....and I was your baby girl. You took your last breath and life would never be the same for me. I am lost. Devastated and I do not know how to live. Please mama help me from above as I feel I am falling a part piece by piece.