Chaotic Black Monday

His name was A Bin. I can't remember his full name anymore. I only remember he seemed dark-skinned and tall, had a tattoo on his back, spoke to me a little gruffly, and always squatted outside the auto repair shop eating a bucket of instant noodles.

I don't know why, but I can only vaguely remember a few things.

I went over everything I could remember about him.

When I came to, all I had in my hand was a yellowed train ticket from many years ago.

I think I remember now.

A Bin is dead.

First-person POV, BE

A product of letting my imagination run wild

Trying to finish the story

Theme: Cherish life and keep striving