My short story, A Place with No One, Part IV, the end finally I need to thank you for helping me to take care of him.” She watched me attentively as if I was the one who needed to be consoled. My eyes were drawn to the end of corridor, where Mr. Brown’s room was. The breath of him was still in there lingering, for he had been in that room for too long, permeating in the wall papers and carpets, but ceased behind the pale brown door. I wanted to leave soon. I sat back in the car. On the steering wheel were my hands, which reminded me of Mr. Brown’s cold fingers. I wandered how his dreams were like. Maybe when the body became weaker, the dreams were louder. I returned to my apartment. There was a message in the answering machine. I took several boxes out of the closet. For two years I didn’t extend too much. All my things were in the same boxes as I move in with. I got packed in 20 minutes. For the last time I checked the whole apartment, collected the things leftover, including the expired jar of beetroots. I sank into the white sofa and started to listen to the message. It was Leon. “I will get back one month earlier because I just got the project. I always wanted it. I think I told you about the project. Isn’t it great? And I get to see you sooner. Call me back.” I took the beetroots out of the box and found a fork. It tasted not that different after passing the expiration date. I dived into the purple liquid for sliced beetroots then I put the jar on the white coffee table. I just sat there. In my imagination, I became a black bird, flied through the window of white apartment, and disappeared into Minneapolis’ glaring sunshine.