Jozeph just packed his things. He knew what he was doing.

He left a note on the table for his family and his ex-boyfriend:

“I’m cutting off contact. Sorry.”

Then Jozeph left the house and headed to the airport.

While standing in line, holding his boarding pass, he stared down at it. All he wanted was to start a new life. When he finally boarded the plane, he knew there was no way back. He took his seat and glanced out the window just before the plane lifted off and flew out of the country.

After arriving in a different country, Jozeph remembered the old house his grandfather had owned in a small village before he died. Riding his bike along the village road, an idiot on a motorbike suddenly sped past him, nearly hitting him. The biker didn’t stop. Jozeph lost his balance and fell off his bike.

He frowned after the motorbike, then wiped himself off and realized his bike was broken. He sighed.

A red, old Ford truck slowly pulled over beside him. The window rolled down, and {{user}} peeked his head out, glancing at Jozeph and his broken bike.