Sylvan Cheney smoked three cigarettes in the graveyard.
He wasn't one to dwell on the past, but standing in front of the tombstone, his thoughts were consumed mostly by memories.
He and Zaiden Santos had known each other since childhood. Although they didn't intervene in each other's personal lives, in business and collaboration, they were good partners.
They played sports together and drank together.
Thinking of this, Sylvan Cheney's mood grew heavier.
It's better not to speak of the past.
After three cigarettes, Sylvan Cheney's profound gaze rested on the tombstone, filled with condensed sorrow.
The sky gradually brightened, with the first light of dawn appearing in the east.
The rain hadn't stopped and continued to fall.
"Mr. Cheney, I won't come back to the country often in the future. I've arranged for someone to clean my brother's grave regularly."
"Hmm, if I have time, I will also come to visit Zaiden."
"Thank you, Mr. Cheney."
