Optimum Christmas of our lives He is 25 of December of 2008, Native one! The family all left to attend the Mass of the Rooster. It did not want to leave. She preferred to be in house and to have access the Internet to find the boyfriend virtual. Immediately afterwards, it has access the Messenger and is to talk. The family of it, mother, aunt and cousins had also left to go to the cult.
It counts that the supper of it is a sausage that he himself prepared and a bottle of wine. It is half without favour with the table dispatches by post behind it and the natalinas dainties. It if excuse for not having sent present, would like well to have it presenteado, but, dismissed and without money, what he can make was a poem, in the truth, acrstico with the name of it. It is touched itself, says that as much makes, gifts does not say nothing. She adored the poetry. It strengthens that he does not make love poems, that one is an exception. It laughs, enternecida. They talk and it says it to look at the Orkut of it.
There they are photos of the city where it deferred payment. One to one, ciceroneia it. It goes speaking as a tourist guide. For each one, it always has some colorful fact, a history to count. It is happy excessively. They pass the night until a dawn in a close, full dialogue of complicity, exchanges of loving words. It asks if it is not sorry not to have left with the family, to be in another place. It, gotten passionate, guarantees one more time that optimum place of the world is that one where if they find. The years had run. Today it has job, car and money. The table of Christmas if finds ece of fish, decorated tree, candles, light, smells of pine in air. The gifts under the tree say that the years of containment of expenditures already had passed. It she is alone relembrando of that night years behind. It left to go to a party with fellow workers. While he turns pages the pages of the book, he hears the racket of the car arriving. Nor he raises the head to hide the stubborn tear that he insists on rolling for the face. - Already he came back The party was not good? - The party? Ah, yes, the party was until good good. It raises the chin to it, with the dark eyes diving in the green eyes of it, lighted for the contained tears. - Optimum place of the world, is this: Where we are two. It smiles, alliviated. Noel papa exists!
It counts that the supper of it is a sausage that he himself prepared and a bottle of wine. It is half without favour with the table dispatches by post behind it and the natalinas dainties. It if excuse for not having sent present, would like well to have it presenteado, but, dismissed and without money, what he can make was a poem, in the truth, acrstico with the name of it. It is touched itself, says that as much makes, gifts does not say nothing. She adored the poetry. It strengthens that he does not make love poems, that one is an exception. It laughs, enternecida. They talk and it says it to look at the Orkut of it.
There they are photos of the city where it deferred payment. One to one, ciceroneia it. It goes speaking as a tourist guide. For each one, it always has some colorful fact, a history to count. It is happy excessively. They pass the night until a dawn in a close, full dialogue of complicity, exchanges of loving words. It asks if it is not sorry not to have left with the family, to be in another place. It, gotten passionate, guarantees one more time that optimum place of the world is that one where if they find. The years had run. Today it has job, car and money. The table of Christmas if finds ece of fish, decorated tree, candles, light, smells of pine in air. The gifts under the tree say that the years of containment of expenditures already had passed. It she is alone relembrando of that night years behind. It left to go to a party with fellow workers. While he turns pages the pages of the book, he hears the racket of the car arriving. Nor he raises the head to hide the stubborn tear that he insists on rolling for the face. - Already he came back The party was not good? - The party? Ah, yes, the party was until good good. It raises the chin to it, with the dark eyes diving in the green eyes of it, lighted for the contained tears. - Optimum place of the world, is this: Where we are two. It smiles, alliviated. Noel papa exists!
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