At the end of the month, remorses and fear had gnawed him to bone marrow. He didn’t go out, didn’t eat, didn’t shave either. He didn’t even answer the door or the phone. His neighbours had started to worry. Then, by a November evening, he took his coat. He had thought about it during long weeks and had come to a conclusion, he had to do it. He put his hat and went toward the port. In his head played the movie of his life, a movie coming to an end.