That morning I woke early. He must be the sound of the door of my room. Opened it at me, like you did whenever he was with you. "Come and have breakfast with me?" . Despite my phobia I woke up early like a thunderbolt. With his face washed and "just comb" I caught you by the hand. Strong hand, a steady hand, loving hand, honest labor. We went outside. It must be spring or summer because it was not cold, nor heat. A touch of freshness touched my face, a lonely streets still gave me the sun so beautiful there Astorga in their first hours of life, that sun which illuminates the soul and not yet forgotten. Must have 8 or 9 years, or maybe some more and I loved being with you.
walked hand in hand, as usual. Open bar and breakfast. I do not remember what, but that does not matter. I do not care to have those memories, to feel so close even though they are already so far, the feeling of living in us because even though you're not, you are forever. I love you.
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