Where Is My Son, Abigail?

John sighed tiredly and long, starting to massage the nape of his neck that felt sore with slow movements. It seemed today he had decided to stop his surveillance, disappointment shrouding his troubled heart. He hasn't gotten any clues, even though he's been monitoring all day.

It was late afternoon, and he couldn't see any sign of Abigail Smith. The woman he's been very curious about lately.

But his decision changed. Suddenly, the tall and big gate opened. John leaned forward a little. See what will come out from inside the black gate.

A white car shot out, but the windshield was too dark. John wasn't sure what he was seeing. Is that Abigail?

John decided to follow where the white car went. There's nothing wrong with following a car, even if it's not Abigail, who was inside. He could have stopped the search and immediately went home to rest.