He sits in the corner and puts his hands to his face. He is alone.
Pacing the boxcar after a number of thoughts, he again sits down
in the opposite corner. Realizing this area is no different then the last,
he paces again. He proceeds to the next two corners, trying each
individually, and comes to the same conclusion.

For a short period of time he experiences hunger pangs,
then wards them off by thinking about the trees outside.
Afterwards, he worries about family: what're they doing,
is it the same as before? What about work: who'll contact
them concerning his disappearance?

Then, he remembers he hasn’t had any time alone for awhile,
and is thankful. He thinks of all the books he hasn't read,
and all the travels planned, but never ventured.
"I had the right idea then," he says. Before long,
he develops a new understanding.

He stops thinking about the sun, his family, and if possible,
himself as well. He removes his shirt and puts his head
against the cold floor; his last thought extinguishes itself as a small,
almost unnoticeable smile. When the car was opened the next morning,
they all agreed he led a purposeful life.