given up

Aug. 19th, 2016 | 06:53 pm

And he came back after that month and took his sneakers — remember those sneakers with »University of Virginia« printed on them? He was so proud of those, wore them every day. And he took them down in the cellar, and burned them up in the furnace. We had a fist fight. It lasted at least half an hour. Just the two of us, punching each other down the cellar, and crying right through it. I’ve often thought of how strange it was that I knew he’d given up his life.

(c) Death of a Salesman
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