Ending

Thus the avocado adventures came to an end. When I returned home, I found that all the avocados I had stashed away in my room had disappeared along with them. For one mad second, I almost felt a sense of longing. I had not seen a pristine room in almost two years, and the avocados seemed to have become the primary focal point of my room. Without them, I was simply standing in the middle of bare white walls.

I did not go out to search for Her. I knew, and it was the only thing I understood then, that She had been taken from me forever. But it was only a half-truth I was holding, and if I knew what I know now then I would have known that She had not been taken away from me.

Rather She had chosen to leave.

And it was equally a saintly act as it was hostile, for She may have sacrificed Herself to save me from Avogadro, but only as equally as She had sacrified herself to save Avogadro from me. And I did not know for how long She had known. Perhaps She had always known, from the very beginning.

And I loved Her still, and still do I love Her. But I see now that She was right.

I went back to my studies. All the friends from my boyhood continued to ignore me, but my sister eventually came around. And I went down to the river with her, and we visited the avocado orchards, and we came back home to our family, and I ate dinner with them for the first time in almost two years.

While I was still a boy, I looked upon those two years with a sense of loss and confusion. I did not know why She had left me. I did not understand why She seemed to have picked Avogadro over me. Now I understand.

I sometimes wish I could ask Her one last question—I would ask Her if She had truly loved me then. To love Her was easy, but to have loved me then was no simple task. I would not issue blame if She had not, if She only saw me as someone to be saved, to be taught.

Without Her sacrifice, I would have continued to suffer through to adulthood. I would not be here, putting this story to paper, but lying admist avocados, my body completely ravaged by the Cold.

It was only through Her actions that I could understand.

Now I put this story to paper to tell the story of Her sacrifice so that it will not be forgotten, and to warn future children who may suffer a similar fate—

There is no Cold. There is only the absence of Hot.