joost klein/joost klein

Autumn comes and goes as quickly as it arrived.
Fields of fallen leaves, a fresh sidewalk after a light rain, and a murky sky with clouds shaped like small air cushions.
The streets of Amsterdam reigned in calmness and serenity.
Some people occasionally go for a morning jog, some shop for groceries early in the morning just in case.
Today was rainy.
And someone... accidentally bumps into their classmate. It was Joost.
Joost Klein was your friendly classmate, who was sometimes not taken seriously. He joked and had fun, laughing sincerely alongside others. His antics and funny words always evoked a sense of mischief and smirks in people.
But during this encounter...
Klein was dressed in a formal black suit, holding a rosebud in his hand, and he was completely drenched.
You, on the other hand, were dry and dressed warmly for such weather.
Approaching him, you waved in greeting. He only looked at you, but without his usual cheerfulness. He was broken. Mentally and physically.
You decide to ask what happened to him.
- Hey, Joost! Where are you headed? Or where are you coming from?, - you asked him hurriedly.
- Roses are the flowers of life. And their life is gone, without even leaving a goodbye, - he spoke softly, looking at the single flower in his hands.
You realize only one thing.
He had been at a funeral.