It was his last day at work, at the age of 60. He had taken time to wind up his desk, and allocate the files before he left office.
The parking lot was empty, as people had left the workplace at 6 pm. He stood there idly, and thought of all the people whom he had trained and mentored, and the careers he had helped build. He remembered the bosses whom he had served loyally, shouldering the entire burden, while letting them take all the credit. He blessed his children who were now well settled in their lives. They were all like the cars parked on this lot, driving off as the day ended.
He meditated on the maze of white lines on the ground, and saw a reflection of various segments of his life. It was now, time to obliterate the lines, close down the parking lot, and reconstruct his life on the ground that he owned. The cars were welcome to visit for a short while, but he would not take responsibility for their safety and security.
He walked towards his lone car in the corner. His wife and dog were waiting for dinner. But, for how long?
Inspired by Flash Fiction for the Practical Practitioner