was until I took advantage of the inspiration and the time available to me before leaving for the school trip. So the first seven chapters to note is ready. It 's wonderful finally rewrite something, searching for words, see the story in mind, get to know the characters that will keep you company for a few weeks, months, years.
NOTE: it is the first installment of the series of stories that I started writing for the seven notes mentioned below.
Title: I went where the wind calls me
Fandom: Original
Summary: A note left on a table and a heart that suffers.
Rating: for all.
Genre: romantic, sad.
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: David and Martin are characters invented by me.
Word Count: 334
Link to table: sara-woig.livejournal.com/1262.html
Song: Serenata street - Modena City Ramblers
never come to seek
I went where the wind calls me
Tonight I will be one thousand miles
Far from home ...
blacks scribbles on a piece of torn paper. It 's a quote from "Serenade of the road" of Modena, who adores: I could not wait for a different parting from him. I can imagine him hunched over a wooden table in the kitchen shaking frantically with one hand and a pen with the other holds a cigarette rolled slightly. Probably wrote the ticket this morning at dawn, as the first rays of sun came through the window dorandogli the face and the wind was blowing fine now.
The breeze ruffles my hair already matted them and it makes me shudder under the shirt night light. It 's all the fault of bare feet in contact with terracotta tiles and wind, not with those few words penned in a hurry on that ticket. I continue to observe from a distance, moving your eyes from it to the door, all the time. It 's my only movement, because the rest of my body looks like a statue of ice. I wish the pale sun would make me melt and then evaporate and then fly up and then disperse and then ... do not think any more.
not think more than the guy with whom I spent three years of my life I have abandoned overnight, with no explanation except a stupid ticket! My fist is closed on it, it shrivels up and throws him into a corner. I look at him lying crumpled for a moment, askance. Inevitably I feel silly now and finally leave the kitchen, walking stiff as a puppet. It seems to me to put an eternity to do - how many will? - Two meters because every single object reminds me of him. What I feel pathetic!
But here's the giant stuffed dolphin that had given me to make me feel less alone when there was strong feeling that I hold close to a big heart.
I love you.
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