These people, our ancestors, found closure. Developed it in their brains. They knew when to put down the book, when to stop looking for dead wives sitting around the fire circle at night, when to stop checking the rearview mirror looking for whatever. Their brains went click when they reached the end, so they weren't stuck looking at the last page wondering what was going to happen, staring down at a grave-stone almost completely grown over with grass and moss, burning there eyes staring at the moon long after it had turned into the sun.