the room and 'gloomy today.
the sun filters through the heavy dark curtains, and air 's so dense that you can almost' see the silhouettes of slow wave properties.
they all came.
to say who goes and not 'so' as hard as those who remain, I think that is partly true.
maybe at some point you accept it, or maybe just before you give in, relying on the consolation soon to be 'all over. just before you're there, and the next you're gone '. free.
but for those who remain and 'the other way.
one is attached to hope till the last, indeed, not 'rare that the very last second is the most' peaceful, almost as if you give the impression that everything is settled.
then, an instant later, here is a piece of your soul that is detached, leaving just the feeling like a burden, but it 's a bad feeling, a bit' when it comes down like an elevator with a little 'too fast.
here he is at the center of the room, motionless.
he's' gone with a final beep , like in the movies.
we have been through a lot the two of us ... a lot of pictures, lots of messages.
with him listening to "sell out" on the radio in the morning, going to school.
funny how you think of these details stupid, huh? among all, in all these years, remembers a radio in the morning.
or how he could look cool while having so many games that nobody has ever figured out where they were held.
or when it 'fell to the sea, and made us all scared, and instead pulled up and then I had not done anything.
and 'useless to think of it, anyway.
my cell phone and 'gone, and will not return' never again 'back.
the room we all know that in this crazy world that is running a hundred miles an hour there is no 'time to stop and celebrate a fallen comrade, we all know that tonight we will have to find someone to replace him, we all know that life must' to continue as if nothing had happened.
yet, my pockets are inconsolable.
