by Tom Evans
He'd say that every morning as he left behind nothing more than a light peck on my cheek. Each evening as he logged off at 18:23pm precisely, he'd say to himself, Better get going I suppose. He was always the last to leave. I was constantly telling him to slow down but would he listen? The irony brought a smile to my face, quelling my tears, as his coffin was lowered into the ground. On his headstone, I'd had engraved, "He decided he'd better get going."
Tom Evans wants you to unleash the book inside.