Early Morning Fog

Pintu stood on the porch overlooking the plantation that was drenched in the early morning fog. He fingered the 20 year old lighter and thought. Overnight he had come to realize that this was not a lead, only a side trail. He could not call it a dead end or even a diversion, for he had learned so much among the bean trees and their people, but now it was time to move on towards another destination. He said a quite goodbye, put the lighter back into its pouch and then into his pocket, and turned to gather his things.