He had to do this alone, while his wife was waiting in the car on the road above, by the bridge. He wanted to leave a little bit of life that was plucked, but its pedals still breathing and moving somewhat, in memory of the load on his shoulders that almost took his life.
As he put the flower down he wondered, what happened to his suitcase, who took it? Why was someone so quick to take his case while he was walking into darkness?
Was he being observed while he lost his track? What happened to the case?
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