The man in black traveled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.

These words resounded in William's head, in a voice not quite his own. Smoking the day's last cigarette, he could think of nothing else. The troubles of his life were shoved to the side.

I've reached the clearing at the end of the path, he thought, butting out the filthy habit in a too-full ashtray. I've finished the series, now it is time.

Had anyone asked, William would not be able to say what it was, exactly, he was expecting. Ever since he began reading the series, a sense of foreboding preceded the conclusion, exacerbated by the story itself.

Roland, or his equivalent, do ya kennit, will be here shortly. Set my watch and warrant on it, do ya fine.

It was with these thoughts that William Clinton Toren (another two coincidences that had not been lost on him) went to sleep, fully expecting not to awaken. His last thought, before sleep claimed him. Go, then. There are other worlds than these.