daybreak
your %&$## birthday when, with her black cocktail dress and a pair of sunglasses covering the ravages of the night awake, stood at the window of the butcher of the family empire of his beloved chocolate breakfast with churros seen watching the windows of black pudding and tripe. Knowing with regret impossible to forget that love was a prerequisite for the transition to maturity I needed.
Many were the obstacles that had come between them: One older brother, a hunter of wild animals in the African savannah and his wife drunk and addicted to cosmetic surgery. Ana Maria, The baby of the family from an early age was put in charge of the family business, managing to combine his two great passions: creative accounting and interior design. The eldest living the virgin and the patriarch, sick at heart, still in this world by the sheer will to live, fearing that his death so hard up that empire is coming down more erections faster than her youngest, the darling ... but I digress.
Anyway, she decided to give up on love, the love teenager, the love of Candy Candy, because he knew he had no future. He jam & aacute, s exceed its pathological phobia tared looking at disturbing and she never put on the horns of a dilemma. The thing was a draw.
She dismissed the view, while gobbling the last churro from that cold Saturday morning:
Arrevoire, blah of my backings! It was nice while it lasted.
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