I searched my memory but could not remember any such person. Who could he be? As far as I could remember, my Grandma did not have a friend like this.
Out of curiosity, I could not help stepping forward. “Hello!”
The man paused for a moment and turned around to look at me sharply.
His elegant handsome features seemed aloof as he cast me a glance. Without a word, he turned around, ready to leave.
Noticing the white chrysanthemums and offerings in front of the tombstone, I couldn’t help looking in the man’s direction, asking, “Mister, you are…?”
The man turned around and cast me a glance, saying, “Just a passer-by!”
After this short phrase, he said no more.
Watching him walk away, I could not help being curious. When did my Grandma make friends with someone like this?
Leading Summer to pay respects and bid goodbyes, I set aside those thoughts. Macy’s grave was the newest. After five years, there were no weeds or damages. It looked brand new.
I could not understand Jared. Perhaps, he had never loved Naomi or Macy. To him, they were just passers-by and his feelings for them are just guilt.
Neither of them was around anymore nor so all that was left was a heart filled with remorse.
If both of them were still alive, I’m afraid he would still be cold and indifferent to them as if they were just strangers.
On the way back, we met the man with the aloof expression again. His car was parked in front of the cemetery, it was a black off-road vehicle, cool and domineering.
When I arrived with Summer, he cast us a nonchalant glance and put on his sunglasses. Then he entered his car.
In the car, Joseph told me, “Mrs. Fuller, Mr. Fuller instructed me to book the air ticket for tonight. Is that alright for you?”
I smiled. “Alright!” It was already booked. There was no point in cancelling it.
The car had barely started when there was suddenly a screeching sound of braking. It was so loud that my eardrums hurt.
Our car stopped abruptly and Summer fell into my arms. Joseph calmed himself and looked with narrowed eyes at the black car in front of us.
I came back to my senses as two men alighted the black car with wrenches in their hands, obviously coming at us.
Crack! The windscreen was smashed.
The windscreen on the driver’s side crashed down even as Joseph cried, “Mrs. Fuller, call the police!”
His door was opened and two well-built men pulled him out, tying his hands and shoving him into their car.
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