There were plenty of broken branches and shrubs around and thus, with some help from his matchbox and a few sheets torn out of his notepad, Callahan had his fire blazing in no time. He sat beside it and as he periodically fed it a new piece of wood, his mind began to wander away. He thought about what he had been through and how he had got to where he was, what he had done right or wrong and what he would have done differently. He realized that this was a pointless exercise for him, after all the show was already over and thus there was no need to analyze the situation. He could only regret the fact that the best he could offer was still not good enough for some.

Callahan dropped his head and it was then that he noticed his shirt, the same shirt he had intentionally kept on for the past few days. There was something special about this shirt. He remembered buying it in Germany, he had worn it on one of the many occasions when he narrowly passed a crucial test, he had it on the first time he met with the US Solar Foundation, he had it on during many successful presentations and he had it on during the party at Michailovic’s place in Mexico. Somehow it seemed as if nothing could go wrong as long as he was wearing this shirt. Well, at least nothing until now. Callahan peeled off the shirt and stared at it. It was only a piece of sewn fabrics, he thought. Whatever sentimental value it had was now counterbalanced by the forces of evil. No, this shirt had betrayed his trust when he needed it the most and thus its services would no longer be needed. Callahan dropped his shirt in the fire and sat motionless as he fearfully watched it reduce to ashes.