On a cold evening in New York, a man braved the wind that was biting his face. His hands and his face were turning numb, but he still kept walking all by himself.
Holding a bunch of lilies in one hand and two cups of Starbucks coffee in the other, he started climbing the steps of the graveyard in silence.
He was a man in his late fifties, but it looked like time had taken a bitter toll on him. His wrinkled face and knuckles made him look older than he was, but his eyes bore the same sharpness as before. The suit that he was wearing was expensive, but deep down, he looked withered.
Few of his hair had turned silver which was hidden underneath his Fedora hat.
After ten minutes of strenuous walking, he halted in front of a pair of tombstones that read - Akira Peyton and Raymond walker.
He gently laid the lilies between the tombstones and offered them a cup of coffee each.
