Succeeding at last

He wasn’t expecting that to work. Finally he had managed to succeed.

Unfortunately, his attempted suicide was supposed to be just that. An attempt. A cry for help. A final shout into the crowd of people who so often failed to acknowledge his very being. And now, it wasn’t a cry, it wasn’t a shout, it was a suicide. An end. But also, he realised as he looked down at his lifeless body, a beginning. The beginning of what he did not know. But he intended to find out. He was pretty sure it couldn’t get any worse than the crap that had been the previous.

Maybe this will be ok, he thought as he picked up his bag, stepped over his former shell, and headed out of the hotel. Strange. His bag had traveled with him to the afterlife. But not his hat. That remained on the floor. He had liked the hat. Though the pool of blood it was now sat in meant he didn’t mind too much about leaving it behind.