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pencil

She looked at her watch. It was time. It was lunch time. But not the regular one. Today a surprise was waiting for him. She served his pasta with the tomato puree from the can and she cutted into small pieces so he could have it easily with a spoon. And then she went into the room. There he was, silent as always, with eyes wide open, his sock on the only hand he could move trying-once more-to reach his foot…that he had lost since 2006. She stood at the door. Tears started falling from her eyes. But it was time.

While he was having the last of his meals and she, holding a tissue, looked outside the window, the waves seemed larger and larger and the colour of the sky seemed darker and darker. She blinked her eyes and her tears crashed on the floor. And then she turned and the time had come and without realising it the time had passed. And he was there but he was not… and she was relieved but she was not.

She took the pencil and wrote the note, left it on the table and closed the door. And as she was walking towards the sea the waves seemed larger and larger and colour of the sky seemed darker and darker.

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