came to the pharmacy some rueful. The dark circles were livid, imagine acknowledgment receipt of sleepless nights. He opened his wallet and pulled out a couple of recipes that delivered into the hands of the mistress, while losing the look of the shelves crammed with the establishment. He wore a gray skirt with a white blouse and carried on his shoulders a black cardigan did not hide his thinness and its possible reluctance. "What's wrong?" asked Miss while he delivered a bag of drugs, "You look very sad and impaired, Aurora."
in his hands a piece of paper with scribbled some notes. He tried to speak, but did not come out not even a breath, closed his eyes, looked down and lost it on the note, then tears blotted the ink was even worse when trying to dry them with tissue paper pulled from the bottom of pocket. From my position near, but respectful, I could only see that it was a short list for purchase, but was so illegible that ended up throwing it away, along with the pulp tissue, throw it, as one who has changed his plans. Finally, like vomiting every single word, he said: "Two months ago that Antonio died, my husband and I have not yet been overcome." He swallowed the rest of the words kept the wallet and went by just a gesture of appreciation that shone through the sting of loneliness.
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