He came home. To an empty house. The lights were on. That was a waste of power. But he didn't care. What did it matter anymore? Outside the power lines were buzzing. A train rumbled by. He eyed the clock on the wall. 3:45. He eyed the shotgun. A dull gleam on the cold steel. They found him the next day. A sardine can was wedged in his jaws. It was a Norwegian sardine can. Hell of a way to die on the last day of January 1945.