He looked out the bus window and felt like he was sinking. The scenery passing him by did not mean anything. Blank cards. He tried to remember the last time he felt joy or longing or anything else except this sinking feeling overwhelming him. He could not. He looked at the houses, at the children, at the green trees swinging in the Irish wind. Nothing, not even a trace of feeling. He clasped his hands and clinging to himself he tried to find any reason within himself that would be enough to go on living like this. Nothing. He looked everywhere, he left no stone unturned in his blackened soul, but he found nothing. Despair took over the emptiness. And then anger. This had to stop, this could not go on anymore. There was no point. This was it. The decision was taken in that unique moment, on that mundane bus, he knew what he had to do. He could not, and would not, stand for another day like this, for another moment of pain. He looked out the window again, this time feeling at peace. The plan had been drawn.