"Death is a matter of destiny." Sylvan Cheney's mood was very depressed.
He pulled out a box of cigarettes and lit one.
Continuous rain threads fell on his face, the cold wind blew, cutting like a knife.
The burning cigarette lit up and dimmed, just as the gloom in his eyes mirrored the dark sky, devoid of any light.
Yolanda Fern leaned on the tombstone, crying incessantly.
Her tears mixed with the rainwater, her sobs becoming breathless.
"Don't cry, your heart is not good, you can't be too sad, let's go home." Sylvan held her arm.
"Mr. Cheney, I really want to accompany my grandfather in his voyage. I have no relatives in this world."
"Don't talk nonsense."
Yolanda couldn't help but cry.
It was as if she would shed all of her tears in this lifetime.
She cried incessantly, sobbing and sobbing, her face covered in tears.
When Sylvan finished his cigarette the rain got heavier.
"Let's go, back to Cheney Residence." Sylvan pulled her arm.
