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I was readings a prose 'the selfish giant' by Oscar Wilde. It is an allegory, in which a selfish giant doesn't allow children to play in his garden due to which the spring never came to his garden. It was always winter, throughout the year. The frost, the snow, the north wind, the hail became his garden's best friends. The giant became so sick of the winter and at last allowed the children to play in his garden. And suddenly his garden was covered with beautiful blossoms. The birds started twittering in it again. The giant was no more selfish. He was happy. His life was filled with blossoms.

Sometimes I wondered why she liked me, or at least tolerated me. Why any of them did. Even I found myself annoying.

“this isn’t like one of your campaigns, you don’t get to write the ending” but the finale literally is literally mike writing the ending for his friends during a campaign.