“Eat more, Ayò mi” he would say in his fine baritone as he makes insensible hand gestures with the food he brings, he never appeared to care of the sunflies bite, nor of the blood that flows down his hairy muscular legs from tears gotten from sharp edged leaves.
* * *
The night watchman stood watching him from afar with teary eyes, the white garment church already waiting with broom and chains, ready to cast and bind the unseen forces
He never wanted to leave his wife, but it was getting late already and the graveyard gates were about to be closed.
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