I went and found my staff, then picked Thomas up and hauled him over my shoulder.
He’d been right about me being like my grandfather. Big. Big enough to carry a shifter, whose mass was more than what it looked.
Turning to where the Gate was open, shimmering brightly, I began walking.
A lot had just happened. I’d need time to process it, to deal with it. Or to bury it.
I turned back and looked at the graves. Brook lay here. The kids lay here. Grandpa and Grandma lay here.
Why am I leaving Earth?
It was the first time back since being ripped away at the funeral. It should have been momentous.
This isn’t home anymore. My home is there.
I stepped through the Gate.
My name is James White, and I catch bad guys.
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