A man of about average appearance stands up from the roots of a tree, where he just stuffed a small journal. Taking one last look at the spot, he hefts a small, odd-looking pistol and marches in the direction of the fading sounds of an airplane engine.
Even though his face looks perfectly calm, inside, his heart is raging tears of grief and loneliness for the one girl who he had truly loved and who also, most likely, thought he was dead.
With every step he took, one word was going through his head:
Fancy