I have found that pigs do not fly. Was that a pending I was scraping the guts to bleed from his voice.
I screamed as he fell.
Facing the balcony, I could feel the wind running a macabre dance on my hair and from the network intermittently, leaving me a glimpse of his dizzying journey to the ground.
I screamed as the echo bouncing off one by one by the eleven floors that separated us.
As always, I heard.
That obviously was not a warm embrace.
would think that she loved him, surely.
I screamed, I cried, I cried ... out of its error.
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