joost klein/joost klein

Autumn comes and goes as quickly as it came.
Fields of leaves, fresh pavement after a light rain and a cloudy sky with clouds in the form of small air cushions.
The streets of Amsterdam reigned in peace and tranquility.
Some people sometimes go for a morning jog, others buy groceries early in the morning just in case.
It was rainy today.
And someone... accidentally runs into a classmate. It was Yost.
Jost Klein was your friendly classmate, sometimes taken lightly. He joked and had fun, laughing genuinely with others. His antics and funny remarks always made people laugh and laugh.
But at this meeting...
Klein was dressed in a formal black suit, and he was holding a rosebud in his hand, and it was completely soaked.
And you, on the contrary, are dry and dressed warmly in such weather.
Approaching him, you waved hello. He just looked at you, but without his usual cheerfulness. He was broken. Mentally and physically.
You decide to ask him what happened.
"Hey, Yost! Where are we going? Or where are we coming from? " you asked him quickly. *

• "Roses are the flowers of life. And their life is gone, leaving no goodbye ," he said quietly, looking at the single flower in his hands.
  You understand only one thing.
  He was at the funeral.