Vignette:Going, Going, Gone
Going, Going, Gone
- Free State of Sungkou, Confederate States of Northern Avalonia
August 10th, 2011
t is 8:03 AM when Marian Lahaye wakes up. He’s an hour late; it takes an hour to go through his regular morning routine, and even if he rushes through it he’ll be an hour late to the next lecture. He leaves his dorm shortly after. His bunkmate is confused as to why he’s so agitated. He won’t understand; he has a different schedule and hasn’t bothered to learn it even after three semesters. His passport, a cool blue with gold details, remains in the bottom drawer of his desk, underneath a sheaf of blank paper.
It is 10:32 AM when he arrives at the local mall, having completely forgotten the lecture. A teller spots him outside the bank, fuddling about with his wallet and struggling to pick out his debit card. He withdraws a wad of cash, the green colour of which denotes 20 Mark bills. Bank records will show he withdrew 460 of the remaining 471 Marks in his account. He is unusually dressed up; brown leather loafers, beige chinos, and an unbuttoned blue oxford for someone who usually drapes himself in neutral-coloured baggy clothing.
It is 11:47 AM when he steps into Michelenburg Station; cameras will show him struggling to fit the luggage case he lugs behind him through the ticket gates. Receipts say he pays with cash for a one-way ticket to Sungkou. An elderly woman stops him just short of the second westbound platform to ask for directions out of the station; he is kind and escorts her to the gates before returning. She will remember his smile, so very youthful and bright.
It is 12:21 PM when the westbound train to Sungkou Hauptbahnhof crawls to a stop at Michelenburg. It is twenty-one minutes late, but a delay of that length is expected for any train run by SBS. He has issues once more getting on; the wheels of his luggage catch on the stairs. An attendant helps him with it; he is friendly, if not quiet. The attendant will recognize him far too late; he has scarring on the back of his neck, difficult to mask, let alone hide. He will order cup noodles roughly thirty minutes later and pay with cash.
It is 2:39 PM when the train comes to a stop at platform 7 at Sungkou Hauptbahnhof. The train is nine minutes past its scheduled arrival time. A lanky figure steps off, luggage in tow. He checks his watch, a Kwan and Sons model gifted to him by his father on his 18th birthday. It is difficult to follow him amidst the midday chaos of the station. A security guard vaguely remembers him waiting for the elevator up to the concourse.
It is 2:42 PM when he walks out of Sungkou Hauptbahnhof. CCTV footage is blurry, but his clothing is distinctive despite the hot Sungkou summer. For a moment, the scarring that paints the back of his neck is seen; it’s no more than a faint reddening on computer screens, and he raises his left hand to scratch at it for a few seconds. A single camera witnesses him disposing of something small in a garbage bin. It is never found.
Marian Lahaye walks out of the frame and is never seen again.