"What do you mean, you're leaving?"
"Just what it sounds like it means. I have packed up what few things I can consider to be mine and I am prepared to leave this place. And never look back, I might add," Buddha said. Buddha was not his real name, but he had been called Buddha for so long now that his true name was lost.
"Do you know where you're going to go?" I asked.
"Not exactly. I thought I would just venture out and enjoy all the sensations that freedom allows. Don't worry, I'll pass word to the Farm via Bumper Message, so as to keep you all informed. Well, this is it then. Goodbye."
The rain had been pouring down all week and the Farm was a soggy, muddy mess because of it. The others were nowhere to be seen as I stood in the drive, drenched, and watched Buddha walk out of our lives. There would be no Bumper messages. There would be no word from passers-by. There would be nothing. Just the day Buddha left us, cold, wet...and alone.
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