the end

In the back of my mind, I spent the last half of the book practically praying that DT Max would not finish this on a hopeful note.

Just let him die, Max. 

Or rather:

Let him just die.

I didn't want any "Wallace may have passed away but his work lives on forever in the hearts and minds of all the lives he graciously touched." Can we let a titanic figure sink without inflicting on ourselves the dysphoric juxtaposition of Celine Dion in tulle crowing claptrap over the wreckage?

Max delivered.

Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.