The Place

It did not thank more for the small things that it made, it did not appreciate plus its good action. It did not say more he loved than it. Whenever he thought about making these things, he left for another hour, for an opportune moment, one day special, a perfect night. But these occasions had never arrived and now the truth fell on its shoulders with one weight almost insuportvel: it would never have a new chance. There it are rain was diminishing slowly, already it had fulfilled its mission: it had wet the ground, propitiating that the life could continue. With some effort, it if it raised of the chair, it caught one door picture with the photo of loved its and was for much time looking at for it, a smile appeared in its lips, together with a tear that sprouted in its eyes. It had fulfilled its mission. It was as the rain that falls of the sky and wets the plantation, refreshes the heat and offers conditions so that the life is pleasant and later even so go leaving the certainty of that it made the difference for where it passed.

It was thus. She arrived in its life, she flooded its heart of love, she made with that she florisse and of these fruits made, it happy and when she was even so, she left its perpetual mark in the heart of that they had had the happiness to share a well lived full life and. She kissed the photograph of it she recolocou and it in the place. There it are the sun was appearing and the sky was not more gray, the life continued. It smiled one more time, the life had that to continue, the gardens needed to be cultivated. It had this.


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