ONE MONTH LATER The gravestone glinted in the pale morning light, one memorial amongst thousands scattered throughout Goldhill Cemetery. It was so early Olivia and Alina were the only ones there, and an eerie silence hung over the property like even the wind was loath to disturb those resting beneath the ground. Olivia wrapped her coat tighter around herself, though she wasn’t sure whether the chill had more to do with November in Nevada or with the words inscribed on the headstone: Bruce Yen. Rest In Peace. 1958-2020.
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