This story I'm going to post the ... mmmh ... I wrote more than a year ago ° _ ° was a school essay on any subject, the first year, and I wrote this. At first I was embarrassed a bit ', Professor Ink had never read something of mine, and I was worried. Then one day, she returned with the issues and correct says, "So, there is an issue that took the honors. I did not give a vote of the genre for years. "All curious, bored, I draw. He clears his throat. "And the flowers wither ...". Immediately stopped, I did not want to read it in class! "Look, you halve your vote!" Threat kidding me but I nod: I prefer to failure. She disiste. Rating: Eight. With this issue, and I approached the teacher we, I think, and finally going to reveal why many of my friends have asked me to read it but I always refused. From this theme I'm structuring a book called "The Time of the Lilies" starring a girl named Zoe and a widower, Mr. Tuomas, or simply Zoe, Mr. T. It 's a bit short but it seemed longer on the protocol sheet _______________
again today, came to visit his wife .
I immediately recognized him and his old pace, uncertain and trembling.
the stick mate every step with its rhythmic tick tick tick in my right hand and a bouquet of fresh flowers in the left. Always and only white lilies for his beloved.
Figure Mr. T is the quintessence of fatigue but it is always nice in appearance when it comes to find his wife. The black leather shoes with square toe are always a bit muddy, the long black coat flapping in the wind like a scarf.
The red scarf handmade tired at odds with the figure of Mr. T, but do not be a genius to figure that made her his wife.
Just saw his face, takes off his black hat from his head, revealing a salt and pepper hair and friendly smiles: it's the only time I see a spark of light for a moment the blue-gray eyes off most of Mr. T. Then change the flowers dry with clean and fresh bouquet of lilies of the smiling pictures of his wife and letters in his name. Liliana. And, with hard work, he sits down and starts talking.
seems to wait and see for the thousandth time one of those old movies that cast in small film: always the same gestures, its movements, but, again, change the conversation.
greets her with a hoarse voice, with his best smile painted on his lips, calling her "Lady" as it has done since she had known fifty years ago. He tells of the sky, the rose that he stubbornly continues to care for her and the child who is struggling with her first child.
Sitting on the floor, smiling at a photo and hands are busy playing with rocks found there on the ground, Mr. T seems to be just a boy but just look into his tired eyes to see that his mind is aging faster than his body. But if his love is so strong, so is the pain she feels for the distance forced by his love. He feels the lack of his voice, his smell, his red ears when he was angry, the kiss on the forehead which gave him every morning to wake him and the annoying habit of reading the paper before him.
I know because it happens every time. And every time Mr.
T gets up painfully from the ground and go home, I'd love to run after him and reassure him that Lilli is happy, waiting for him and many other things but I can not and will never.
Why? Why are only the angel in white marble that Mr. T has chosen as the guardian of the tomb of her only love.
will return tomorrow and the only thing I can do is stand by my watch while he continues to love a photo. And the flowers wither ...
I finished reading of the origins, Ubisoft and beautiful stories yaoi;)
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