@jcunos
There was no rule for those behind the scenes to be treated like contracted actors after death, to be burned up, cast under a star for every tourist and enemy to walk on alike. Jessamine's letter was explicit, anyways: don’t let them burn me. Up in the hills, far away from the walk of fame and all those that haunt it, was the memorial made. A view that was in touch with a desire in the last moments to simply escape it all.
It was silent. Gentle breeze catching the leaves, scratching at the sandy earth before another soul was heard to challenge it. The director looked over his shoulder, catching sight of a familiar face, but a familiar face did not always bring a smile. It was a neutral expression, the best yet between them, that was given as he took in Juno's face. "This time? It better not be me that brings you up here."








