We hear a lot of stories
in life that make us think about many things... In what we have done and in
what we would like to do...
My friend ended up staying
in the small town that we arrived, I resolved to come back, lucky me there was
a train line passing in the town, that was a beautiful place, apparently well
organized, with many stores. There wasn't nothing more in the abandoned bottle
of whiskey, I bought another one in a close bar and went walking towards the
train station.
Arriving at the station I
sat on a bench in front of the train line and opened up the bottle, I was
watching the trees ahead. I hadn't noticed that there was a person beside me,
an old man holding a photo of a couple and two kids. He fixed his half clenched
eyes on me, he had gray and neatly combed hairs, his clothes were well starched
and his features seemed to tell long stories.
“My wife and kids...” he
told me with a little smile and low voice, but firmly, “I don't see them in a
long time....” continued, changing his look to the trees, “I've lost them in
the time I participated in the war...” The old man was silent, I wondered how
his life would have been for some reason I don't know to explain, in his neck
there still was a necklace with his name, I resolved to ask which battle he had
participated “I don't remember” he said, “It was a long time ago, the things
weren't easy, I was forced to leave my city and my family and participate in
that massacre, when I got back I had lost them... ”
The train arrived, but my
curiosity still existed... On the way to the train the man confessed to me “I
killed them...”.
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