Item: A note.
Warnings: None.
Open to: Harry Fisher.

The note arrived in the night. On a small scrap of paper, the words were scrawled in a spidery hand, slightly smudged, an indication of the note being folded before the ink was completely dry. It was, however, still legible.

There was no name, no indication of who the note was from. There were simply two words, in the middle of the paper, just two. A short phrase that was intended to convey more than could be imagined.

I'm done.