He gunned the engine. Its loud roar kept him sane.
He had been fired that day.
“What type of attitude is this? Others complete in three days while you can’t with two weeks! Now our most important clients are getting ready to sue us! Do I have to account for your mistakes?” Every word pierced his heart like shards of ice.
The fateful letter came to him a day later. As he packed up, all he heard were scornful sniggers.
Bad deeds are proclaimed for hundreds of miles. He came to the restaurant, only to see his long time girlfriend striding off, red hair swinging, never caring to look back, never bothering to listen to his helpless, garbled explanation. The waiter in his spotless white suit came over respectfully holding the menu. He threw the red rose into the bin, its freshness seeming to mock him in every possible way.
Maybe it really was his lack of ability. The thought weighed him down, drawing him in like a black hole he was never destined to escape from. Ever since he had left his hometown, he was always unable to shake off the sense of… Loneliness? Inferiority?
He gunned the engine harder. He felt respite, relief and… glee?
The car came head on.
Both gave scant notice to the passerby.
As his lifeblood flowed away, he recognized the crimson patch in front of him, its face almost wrecked.
Even at death, he could never run away.