Dunstan knelt before the tombstone, his fingers tracing the engraved letters of the cool marble monument. “So young,” he murmured to himself. “So young.” Slowly, he rose to his feet and carefully dusted away the dirt from the knees of his pants, his eyes still focused on the tombstone.


When he finally looked up, he noticed a young woman staring at him. He squinted in the bright light, trying to read her expression. Was that a look of contempt? Distrust? He sighed to himself, knowing he looked terrible: a sallow man with hollow cheeks and dark circles under his eyes, longish messy hair, cheap clothes, and a face full of stubble. Things sure changed after… that, he thought to himself. Sucks to get old. Sucks even more to get old while you’re broke.

Much to his surprise, the young woman began to walk toward him. As she approached, he could see her more clearly. She was young, perhaps about twenty years old, with red hair and unusually pale skin. Despite her youth, she was dressed fairly well, and she smiled at him as she stepped closer.


“Hey,” she greeted him. “Visiting family today?”

“Something like that,” Dunstan replied. “Came to see my mom’s tombstone.”

“Yeah,” the young woman responded. “I came to see my brother’s grave. He died not too long ago.”

“Wow, that’s terrible. How did it happen?”

The young woman’s eyes darkened briefly. “You know how that comedian said something like ‘Guns don’t kill people; husbands who come home early to find guys in bed with their wives do’? Well, my brother found that out the hard way.”

“That… that’s really bad. I’m sorry. My mom died when I was a kid. Suicide.”

“It’s always sad when someone decides to take their own life.”

“Yeah, I know.”


The young woman smiled warmly at him. “I’m Hannah, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Hannah. I’m Dunstan. Dunstan Diggory.”

Hannah raised an eyebrow. “Diggory, as in the oil giants?”

“One and only. My dad’s the head of the company.”

“So, what are you doing here? And dressed like a hobo?” Hannah asked.

Dunstan cringed a little. “It’s kind of complicated. Long story.”

“I have time. Tell me.”

“Fine, but can we do it somewhere else? I don’t feel like standing around in a graveyard, telling my life story.”

“Okay,” Hannah replied, shrugging. “Your place, then?”

“Yeah, I guess that’ll be fine.”