No matter where she went, to any corner of this world, he could find her, catch up to her.
Yet, only in the face of life and death, exhausting all efforts, he couldn't catch up.
James Black's fingertips gently touched the white cloth but he never gathered the courage to lift it, as if by not lifting that layer of white cloth, he could pretend she was still there.
"Excuse me, mister," said a young girl next to him, wearing a pink trench coat, wiping her tears with her hand, "what is your relationship with my grandma? Please, how is my grandma, at her age, supposed to bear you a child?"
Before James could react, the girl added, comforting, "Don't be so sad. If my grandma can't bear you a child, how about I do it?"
James's fingertips paused, and he turned to look at the girl who had spoken.
"Grandma?" James repeated softly. Were everyone in the crew so good at acting? Even in life, do they not stop acting?
But...
