He spent his last night in London awake, watching the city fall in and out of sleep from the window of his little hotel room. On the streets below him walked the faceless people he would leave behind, from across the park he heard the sound of heavy trucks on the freeway, those who were going somewhere else. Everything seemed to be in constant motion, only varying in direction and sincerity.
Being awake all night had a special purpose. He wanted to take in as much as possible of the life he was about to leave so that there would be no regrets, no unfinished business or lingering sorrows. From time to time during his childhood he had always been afraid of finding that all existence was without meaning, but that would all soon be over. He had often wondered what the point of everything really was, so he thought about it again and shrugged off the nagging worry one last time.
At least that's what he thought and hoped for, but as he later would learn you can never escape from yourself. If you're constantly walking under a black cloud you will do so wherever you take your steps, however hard you try to find a little sunshine, however far from home you go.