text: Hank decided that he really didn't know what was going on. He felt horrible. His head hurt. His body hurt and it didn't even look like his body. So he had to try something, he couldn't just sit there. He decided that he'd go ask a doctor and hoped that there would be some way they would have some kind of miracle cure for him. He really didn't think they would, but he didn't see any other options at this point.
  
  He stood back up from the bed and put his hand out to the wall to keep his balance. He headed over to the pile of clothes in the corner to put some on. He noticed as he moved, that once again the bed was a disaster area. It looked like he had really had a good time with someone last night. He smiled when he thought about sharing the bed with Sasha. He looked down and realized nothing else had happened when he thought of her, though. He carefully put on a tee shirt and some jeans. Neither one fit his new, emaciated body. The tee shirt looked like it was four sizes too big. He had enough room for two fists inside the waistband of his jeans. He grabbed an old charging wire to use as a belt and tried to tie it around. The slick insulation of the wire didn't really tighten well and when he let go, his pants fell down. He bent down and pulled them up again and realized he was going to have to hold them. Maybe this was why old people had belts.
  
  Holding his pants up with one hand, he shuffled towards the door of the bedroom. He stepped into his slides and kept walking. He realized by the time he reached the front door to his apartment that he was already breathing hard. Apparently he was also quite out of shape now. This was going to be a long trip to the doctor. He picked up his wallet and idly wondered how he would explain his ID picture.
  
  Hank made his way out the door and to the stairs to the first floor. He usually took the stairs two at a time, but this time he not only used each step, he could do little more than step one foot onto a step, then bring the other foot down to the level with the first. When he reached the landing between floors, he stopped to try and catch his breath. He thought that he should be sweating, but he figured he was probably still dehydrated. It didn't help that his head was still pounding despite everything else that was going on with him right now.
  
  He worked his was down to the entrace of the apartment and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The bright sunshine felt like daggers in his eyes. He put his wrinkled hand up to block the sun and squinted. He probably should have brought a hat for this trip, but he wasn't in the mood to try and make it all the way back up all those stairs to the second floor. Instead, he started walking, one step at a time, towards the urgent care center once again.
  
  It was so tiring, just walking, at this point. It really didn't make any sense. While he walked, he looked at his hands again and the wrinkles all over them. He pushed the door open to the urgent care center and stopped to try and catch his breath. He actually went over to a seat before he walked up to the counter. The receptionist gave him a nervous glance and said, "Do you need me to call an ambulance for you? We can't handle emergencies here."
  
  Hank feebly waved his hand at her and took a breath. He said, "No, just a regular visit. I'm a little tired, that's all."
  
  She brought forms and a clipboard out to him. He started to say that he had already filled them out, but he figured she wouldn't believe him. Heck, he didn't believe this. He worked his way through the form and when he reached the part asking for the purpose of his visit today he stopped and thought. After a little bit he wrote, "Shortness of breath." Then he handed the forms in to the receptionist.
  
  When she read them she asked him again, "Shortness of breath? Are you sure you don't want me to call an ambulance? There's not a lot our doctors can do for emergency situations."
  
  He replied, "No, it's okay, it's not that serious, I'll wait."
  
  Indeed he did have to wait and he was eventually shown into a small treatment room. The nurse took his vitals and said that the doctor would see him soon. He sat and waited.
  
  When the doctor entered the room, he was looking at the clipboard with the information and said, "This name looks familiar, weren't you just in here..." He stopped when he looked up and saw the old man seated in front of him. He mumbled, "Sorry, I must have been confused. I thought I recognized that name."
  
  Hank said, "Yeah, you did. That's me."
  
  The doctor looked confused.
  
  Hank said, "Check out the birth date there. It's me."
  
  The doctor flipped up a page and his eyes grew wide. He shook his head and said, "No, this can't be right."
  
  Hank said, "I know. I was in here yesterday looking pretty fit, despite the few, uh, diseases there, and when I woke up this morning, I looked like this. How does that happen doc?"
  
  The doctor moved in and looked into Hank's eyes. He felt his arms. He listened to his heart beat. He asked Hank to take a few deep breaths as he checked out his lungs. He pulled out the needle and equipment and told Hank that he needed to take another blood sample. When he was done, he packaged that up and placed it in a container. He took a deep breath and faced Hank. He said, "This, obviously, is quite disturbing. No, I don't mean you've done anything wrong, it just, well, it appears to be some sort of chronic wasting disease. But it normally doesn't come on this fast. I'll have to send these samples over to the lab to confirm things, but it looks like quite an advanced case. There's not a lot of cures for this sort of thing, but there are things we can do to make you more comfortable and to combat some of the worst effects of the disease. But to be completely honest, you really need to be in a hospital. We can call you an ambulance if you like, but I'm strongly suggesting that you get yourself admitted right now. I can certainly send over my recomendations and that will be sure to speed things along. I can't force you to go, but you're really going to be miserable if you don't go and this could continue progressing quite rapidly if it is what I think it is. You may want to think about this a minute, but I really can't be stronger with my suggestion that you go to the hospital directly from here."
  
  As Hank was trying to process what the doctor was telling him, his phone buzzed. Ignoring the doctor for the moment, he pulled it out and saw he had a text from an unknown number. He checked the message and it was simply a smiley face. It had to be Sasha. The doctor interrupted his thoughts with, "I'll give you a moment to consider your options, but please let us call you an ambulance and get you to the hospital. It really is the best thing you can do."
  
  With that, the doctor stepped out the door, leaving Hank alone with his thoughts. He should have asked the doctor if he was going to die. The doctor seemed to imply that, and if that was the case, he really should head to the hospital. He glanced at his phone and the smiley from Sasha. He wondered what she could possibly have to do with this. He felt tired. He felt exhausted. And he was half the man he was yesterday.
  
  > Hank goes home and then sends texts to Sasha.
  Hank sat on his bed and stared at his phone. He was still trying to come to grips with the idea that he was old. Would this end? Was it temporary? Was it all a dream? Could Sasha actually help him?
  
  He scrolled through his contacts and not surprisingly, did not find Sasha listed. He went back to the lastest unknown number and hit reply. This shouldn't work, but nothing else was making sense in the world, so he went ahead and typed, "Hey. What up?"
  
  He watched his phone and waited. He didn't really expect a reply. He put the phone down and sighed. He looked to the kitchen and thought about going to get something to eat. Then his phone buzzed:
  
  New phone, who dis?
  
  He wasn't sure what to make of that. He sent back, "Sasha?"
  
  A few moments later he received another text: j/k hows my hot hank?
  
  Hank smiled at he thought of Sasha. He typed, "y r u not here?"
  
  do u miss me?
  
  u left me here alone
  
  But u live there
  
  I no, but still
  
  aw, hankie misses me
  
  yea
  
  what part of me u miss the most?
  
  At that, Hank started to really think about what he remembered from last night. There was still nothing there, but he could clearly see Sasha in his mind's eye. She really was amazing, and everything about her seemed perfect. He could easily picture those lucious breasts so carefully covered but trying to escape from that red dress. Why couldn't he remember more about them? At this point he was pretty sure he had seen more of them. The appearance of the bed behind him told him that indeed he had seen a lot more than just those. But his mind really was blank in those areas. He couldn't picture anything beyond seeing her in that amazingly hot dress at the bar. He looked down and realized that maybe he had aged more than he imagined, as nothing was happening down there. He sent back, "All of u"
  
  There was a pause and no response for a moment. Hank decided to try and dig a little: "u like last nite?"
  
  He received a reply quickly this time: yessssss u?
  
  He wasn't quite sure where to go with this one. Surely if he spent the night with that goddess, he enjoyed it. He was pretty sure there was no way he couldn't enjoy her. He responded with a thumbs-up emoji.
  
  ready to go again? 2nite?
  
  Hank pondered how in the world he could keep this up. Right now he was out of breath just walking to the damn bathroom. How the hell could he go out yet another night? And it was Sunday now -- he had work in the morning. But could he possibly say no to her? She was his dream girl, everything he could ever imagine and more. He looked over at the mess of the bed and thought about how awesome it must be. Maybe if he just didn't drink one night, he might remember more about what happened and more about Sasha. He quickly opened up his gallery on his phone, hoping for some pictures. Unfortunately there was nothing there. He really needed to remember pictures next time. But would there be a next time? He was scared to say no to Sasha. He texted, "mby hangover now"
  
  poor bby b a man
  
  yea
  
  u ok?
  
  Hank wondered if he really was okay. He was still tired and his head still hurt. He couldn't imagine another night of that kind of party. Well, he could, but he didn't know how he would make it to work Monday morning. He texted back, "yea"
  
  want me 2 come over?
  
  That really got Hank to thinking. That meant she did know where he lived and she had been here, no matter memories he had or did not have. He looked at the sheets again and wondered where this could lead. This could really be amazing. He wasn't drinking right now and had a clear head, even if it was sore. They might have another great time. Then he looked down at his old and wrinkled body, including his flaccid junk. It probably wasn't a great idea for Sasha to see him like this. Heck, when he opened the door, she'd probably run away. Maybe if he just slept this off, he'd be in better shape and feel like doing things later. But he really did want to be with her right now.
  
  > Yea
  brt
  
  Well crap. Now she was coming over. Was that the best option here? Once again Hank looked down at his old and shriveled body. What would she say when she got here. What if she wanted to, well, do something? He looked down and figured that wasn't going to work either. She was going to leave, he was sure of it. No woman would want this mess that was him right now, and she was no normal woman, she was a total goddess. Hank sat there and really just could not stop thinking about her. He had memories of spotting her across the bar and staring into her eyes. She really was everything he ever needed, he was sure of that. But he should probably at least try and prepare for her arrival.
  
  Hank got up and looked through his drawers to try and find something that fit him at least a little bit. He did find a tee shirt that was years old and a little smaller that he hadn't worn in a long time because it was too small. It hung off him like a small tent, but it was better than the last one that was a nightgown. After looking through the other drawers, he decided on sweatpants because they already looked like they didn't fit. He couldn't bear the sight of the oversized underwear on his junk, so he went commando. He finished changing and headed for the living room. He sat down on the couch, turned on the tv and then realized he was slightly out of breath. When did getting dressed wear him out?
  
  Before he had time to think about it, there was a knock at the door. Hank started to get up, but then the door opened. Stepping into the room was Sasha.
  
  She was even more amazing than Hank could remember. Her bright red hair was down and full of body, flowing around her perfect face. She was smiling -- it seemed like she was always smiling. She was wearing what looked to Hank like a strip of cloth. It was white and tried to cover her mounds, but left her shoulders and tight stomach bare. She once again looked like she was cold as her headlights were on. On her lower half she had on black, skin-tight yoga pants. Her feet were bare. Hank was excited.
  
  Sasha bounded in the door and headed directly over to Hank. She said, "Oh Hank, the hangover bug still got you?" She sat down on the couch right next to him. He could feel the warmth from her skin. He stared into her eyes, waiting for her to say something more. She smiled and waited for him. Neither said a word.
  
  Suddenly Sasha jumped up and turned to head into the kitchen. Hank almost fell off the couch staring at her tight rear as she walked away. She walked around the island counter in the kitchen and opened the fridge. Hank was disappointed that he didn't get to watch her bend over as she leaned into the fridge. She appeared a moment later with two cans of beer in her hands. She called to him, "Hair of the dog. Just what the doctor ordered, right?"
  
  Hank was baffled. Why didn't she say anything? Was she completely blind? There's no way she couldn't see anything wrong with him, was there? He looked down and was even more confused: his shirt was tight across his chest. He looked over his arm and it was completely normal: no wrinkles at all. He jumped to his feet, ran past Sasha, and into the bathroom. He flipped on the light and looked in the mirror: there he was, just like he had always been. The wrinkles were gone and he looked completely normal in his very tight tee shirt. This was even more impossible. He reached up to touch his face and it felt completely normal as well. How could any of this be happening?
  
  Sasha appeared in behind Hank in the mirror, still holding a beer and smiling. She shoved him to the side a little with her hip and looked in the mirror as well. She said, "Do you like what you see there? I know I do."
  
  Hank was still confused, but found himself looking more at Sasha's reflection than his own. Her stomach was nice and tight. There was an awful lot of skin showing, too. Sasha handed him the beer, then rubbed her hand up and down his arm. He was quickly distracted. She lifted up his hand that didn't have the beer and carefully separated one finger from the rest. She lifted the hand and slowly slid the single finger into her mouth. Hank felt his sweatpants starting to tent as she gently sucked on his finger. Suddenly she pulled the finger out of her mouth, laughed, then turned and ran back into the living room.
  
  Hank took a drink of the beer in his hand and had to adjust his pants. He took one quick last look in the mirror, but at this point was more interested in following Sasha to see what she was up to. When he arrived in the living room, Sasha was sitting on the couch. She was sitting sideways and she patted the seat of the couch next to her. Hank slowly moved over to her and sat down. She watched him as he moved, never taking her eyes off his. As soon as he sat down, she jumped on him, knocking him to the side. She pinned him to the couch, her legs outside of his. She planted a kiss on his lips and Hank closed his eyes, lost in the sensation. Then he could feel her sliding up and down his body once again. His sweatpants were sliding as well and he wasn't sure they were going to stay on. He also wasn't sure he wanted them to stay on. She kept kissing him and when he felt her tongue his brain completely stopped working as all the blood flowed into lower portions of his body. He lay back and simply enjoyed the sensations flowing through his body. He kept his eyes closed and let the darkness take him.
  
  When Hank opened his eyes, he realized he was sitting on the couch by himself. His pants and shirt were a little crooked and out of place. He adjusted them and looked around. Standing at the counter in the kitchen was Sasha, looking as amazing as always. She smiled at him and said, "Hank, let's go out tonight. I want to party."
  
  Hank looked around and realized that it was dark outside. It was night. But he was pretty sure he had just gotten up from bed a short time ago. Maybe he had really just been out all last night and just woke up really late. He hadn't checked the time, after all. He looked over at Sasha, and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. He watched as her muscles rippled and her boobs bounced just a little. She was addicting and she wanted him. But Hank knew enough to realize it was Sunday night and he really did have to work tomorrow. There was no way he could take a day off now, he'd be fired. Then again, if he went out, this wouldn't be the first time he went to work with a hangover. He wondered if he could just skip the expense of going out and maybe just get Sasha to bed right now. Then he could nail her and still get to work on time. But it was very, very hard to refuse Sasha. He just stared at her amazing body another moment.
  
  > Hank agrees to go out with Sasha.
  Sasha grabbed Hank's hand and pulled him towards the door. She cried out, "Yes, I know the perfect place." She stopped and looked back at him, "It's a dance club. You can dance, right?" Before Hank had time to answer, she answered for him, "Of course you can. Come on, this is going to be the best night yet."
  
  She yanked his arm again with surprising strength and headed out the door. She practically dragged him down the stairs in her hurry to get to the club. When they got to the street, she finally slowed down a little. She moved to his side, pressed her body up against his, and put her arm around his waist. He followed suit and put his arm around her as well. She leaned into him as they walked, but she was clearly leading the way.
  
  They walked towards Hank's usual bar. His mind wandered as they walked, back to that night when he first spotted Sasha. Was that really just a couple nights ago? It felt like so much had happened. It felt like it had been weeks or longer. He thought about mentioning that to her, but he wasn't sure if saying that was a compliment or an insult. Instead, he just remained quiet and enjoyed being in physical contact with her.
  
  A block before they reached the bar, Sasha turned into an alley to the right. Hank had never been in this alley, but then he never really had any reason to head into the alleys in the city. He wasn't worried, he just didn't go into them. His mom had filled his mind with visions of the filth and crime that lived in the alleys, but he didn't really believe that and figured she told him those stories to keep him in line.
  
  Sasha stopped and looked up at him when she stopped at the top of a set of concrete steps. There was an old, rusted iron railing around the top of the space to keep someone from accidentally falling into the stairwell. The railing was bent as if someone had crashed into it at some time in the past. From where Hank was standing, the stairs led down into mostly darkness. There were a few flickering shadows at the bottom of the stairs and it looked like a plain black door was at the bottom of the stairs, leading into the basement of the building next door. There were no signs and no indications that this was any kind of dance club, much less anything to suggest that it might even be open to the public.
  
  Sasha stepped down one step into the darkness and looked back at Hank. She said, "Come on, Hank. You only live once, right?"
  
  Hank looked down into the darkness and really wasn't sure this was a good idea. Sasha took another step down towards the door. Hank moved to the top of the steps, but didn't think he was going to go down there. He really had a bad feeling about that doorway. Sasha took another step down, then turned back to Hank. She suddenly grabbed the bottom of her top and lifted it up, letting Hank see every bit of her boobs. Hank's jaw dropped as she quickly pulled her top back down, then turned and ran to the door. Hank stumbled down the stairs as she pulled the door open and stepped inside. Hank could not help but follow her through the door.
  
  The sounds, smells, and sights assaulted him as he walked in the door. He stepped in and the door quietly shut behind him. He couldn't see clearly in the room, there was some kind of smoke or fog everywhere. But there was also pulsing music with the bass slamming through his entire body. There were also flashing lights, mostly white and red, everywhere in the room. There were at least two strobe lights flashing, giving the entire room and outer-world type of feel. He took a step forward. The spinning lights made him almost lose his balance. He tried to find Sasha, but he could just see dark figures in the fog. Something brushed against the back of his leg. When he turned, there was nothing there. He decided to continue to move forward and see what else was in the place.
  
  The music pulsed and pounded against his eardrums and head. He found his head was starting to lightly bob a little with the music. He wasn't sure if that was him keeping up with the music as much as it was the bass from the speakers physically pushing him around. He heard someone laugh to his left and a woman dress only in feathers appeared next to him. Her head was swaying and her eyes were very red. She laughed and disappeared into the fog. It felt like Hank was in a large, open room, but he couldn't see the walls or anything else. Suddenly he was grabbed from behind, arms closing around him and squeezing his chest. He started to turn and react, but then he could smell Sasha's perfume. He relaxed as she started to grind up against him from behind.
  
  Her hands dropped to his hips and he relaxed as he could feel her press up against him. She ducked and worked his way under his arm to his front and she kept grinding up against him. Then she started humping his leg and he just stood there, moving with the music. He looked around and it felt like the room was full, but there still wasn't anyone in sight, just the occasional shadowy figure that would appear and then disappear into the fog. Hank reached around behind her to cop a feel, but she was gyrating too much for him to focus. She was grinding his crotch and he was ready to take this party somewhere else already.
  
  Almost as if she could sense his needs, she stopped and grabbed his hand. She pulled him through the fog to a round red couch. She plopped down on it and dragged him with her. The couch was soft and Hank sank into it. He noticed the table in front of the couch was covered with beer cans, bottles, and half-full mixed drinks. Sasha looked over at him, then grabbed one of the bottles of beer. She said, "Beer, right, Hank?"
  
  Hank sat in the couch in a stupor as she lifted the bottle to his lips. He thought that perhaps he wasn't going to drink tonight, but all thoughts of not drinking vanished the second the bottle touched his lips. He opened his mouth and she poured in the delicious drink. After the bottle was empty, she pulled the bottle away and quickly replaced it with her lips. Hank closed his eyes as once again the darkness took him.
  
  > Continue...
  Hank woke up and Hank was sore. This wasn't your average, every-day sore, he was really in agony. He didn't think there was any part of him that didn't hurt. He was lying, spread-eagle, on a bed and everything hurt. His head hurt. His muscles hurt. His skin hurt. And holy cow, his groin felt like it was completely on fire. He knew opening his eyes was going to bring in more pain, but he figured it couldn't get that much worse. Indeed, he opened his eyes and stared as his own ceiling, but the pain was still there and the pain was massive. He briefly thought about getting out of bed, but there was so much pain. At what point did the human body shut down because of too much pain? Whatever point that was, Hank was just a hair shy of it, he was sure. He hurt so bad in so many places, he couldn't possible imagine a way even to generate this much pain. It wasn't just his outsides, like he had been burned or something, it was his outsides and his insides. His stomach wasn't working right. His head was pounding. His muscles felt like he had been working out at the gym all night. Absolutely everything hurt. And of course, he had absolutely no idea why: no memories at all to explain the incredible pain.
  
  Hank tilted his head to look down. His neck hurt when he did. He looked down at his mid-section and felt like he was watching a horror movie. There was red area of burn. There were sections of skin that looked black. There were sores and blisters everywhere and they all burned. His junk was twisted and bent to the side like it had been used and then broken. And yes, it burned as well. The body he was staring at didn't look like his. There was no way that was his body. However, the incredible pain running through him reminded him that yes, indeed, that was him.
  
  He tried to move and sit up. Every inch of his skin below his chest cracked and tore. He involuntarily grunted in pain. He let his head fall back to the pillow, but the pain really didn't subside at all. He felt like he was dying. He tried to think, but his head hurt and his brain felt fuzzy. He really couldn't add two and two right now, never mind try and figure out what had happened to him. There were, of course, no memories of anything leading up to this point. All he could remember is that he had just awakened and he was in pain. He really didn't even remember going out last night and it hurt to try and remember anything else. He tried to twist his body to relieve the pain, but to no avail. He really was in incredible pain. At the same time, he felt weak, as if he tried to get up that he wouldn't even have enough energy to do that. He looked over at the small table next to his bed and he could see a beer can there. He wondered if it had any beer in it: he was suddenly very thirsty.
  
  Hank took a deep breath and more skin tore along the edge of his ribs. He shifted his weight and lifted his arm across his body. He was in total agony as he did. He also slid up the bed just a little bit and that brought even more pain to his aching muscles. He had to get his head up a little at the same time so he could actually drink. He grunted as he moved a little further, the pain somehow increasing with each movement. When his shoulders hit the wall behind the bed, it felt like someone had hit him with a lead pipe. He stopped to breath and rest. He was out of breath, sore, and very tired now. He managed to reach over and grab the can of beer. He was relieved to feel that it was not empty.
  
  Hank put the can to his lips to drink the beer. Even his lips were sore, they felt dehydrated and chapped. He wanted to pour the beer on his lips to attempt to relieve that pain, but he didn't want to waste the beer. He poured it into his mouth. Even warm the beer felt good washing across his parched tongue. However, when it hit his throat, it was very painful. His throat was completely raw and the bubbles in the beer burned the apparently exposed flesh. He swallowed as much as he could, but he had to put the beer down. As he did he noticed his arm -- not only were the muscles tired, they looked smaller and wasted. He mentally shrugged and looked back down at his groin.
  
  He really couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. Now that he had moved, many of the blisters had broken and there were weeping wounds all around his mid-section. There were spots where there was darker pus -- clearly where blood had mixed in. He looked past the withered and gnarled shaft and looked for his family jewels. Where they use to be he could see a torn and bloody flap of skin. Were they completely gone? He gingerly reached down to touch them. A new, blinding pain filled his vision as he confirmed they might still be there, but they seemed to be smaller, almost as if they had been crushed. The pain had Hank sweating now, and the sweat dripping into all the open wounds yet again increased his pain. He was just in misery like he could not imagine.
  
  Hank looked over to the door when he heard a noise in that direction. He was surprised to see a vision in black stepping through the door. There was Sasha dressed in a skin-tight black vinyl bodice. It was just long enough to cover her assets at both ends. She looked healthy and glowing as she strolled into the room. Hank looked up to her face in agony and was shocked to see her smiling at him. Her smile grew as the shock registered on Hank's face. It was then that he could see small fangs protruding from her mouth. She walked into the room in a way that would have normally turned Hank on. She reached over and rubbed her hand along Hank's foot and up his leg.
  
  Hank struggled to get the words out, "Whaaa?"
  
  Sasha laughed yet again as she moved closer to him. She said, "Oh, dear, Hank, did you think you were doing this all for nothing? Maybe you thought it was all for free?"
  
  Hank just stared as she slowly moved onto the bed on her knee. She swung one leg over Hank so that she was kneeling over him. Any other day, in any other place, with any other woman, and Hank would be in heaven. But he could tell that was not where he was just now. She reached down and grabbed a hold of him, causing a new streak of pain to register in his body. She flopped him to the side and said, "Oh, Hank, this will never do. Surely you've just got just a little bit more in you, don't you?"
  
  Hank was trying to stay conscious as the pain continued. Sasha slid down the bed towards the foot of the bed as she said, "I know what will help get you going."
  
  Sasha's mouth was warm and soft. It also caused a great deal of pain. Hank screamed out as his skin moved and more blisters tore. But Sasha was good and nature was cruel. When Hank was ready, Sasha moved again. She smiled and Hank saw her fangs once more. As she grabbed a hold of him again and shifted her weight she said, "Don't worry Hank, I don't think you're going to last much longer." Thankfully the pain caused Hank to pass out as her hips met his. He was blissfully unware as the last of his life was drained out of him to feed the succubus...
  
  Well, good reader, congratulations, you managed to get killed by the succubus. Feel free to try again and see where else Hank might end up! Thank you for reading.