She opened the window where he entered without permission a peak wind: it was the weirdest winter for many years with a spring sun. The candles were lit on the dining table in front of the window. The man was lying down reading the papers accumulated throughout the week, including weekend with the Sunday supplements. Sometime laid eyes on the table that took over the newspaper wide open. Without paying attention looked like the blast of wind poured the chandelier candle timber and poured the hot liquid over the tablecloth and set fire to a napkin used to it was forgotten on the table.
The woman walked into another room in the house, but the man was still there, lying on a couch cheap, dark blue, devouring the newspapers he had stowed in a small table beside the sofa. The man had scheduled an afternoon of reading and did not want anyone to bother. A flash point consumed napkin stole a quick glance. And he went so deep in thought that what happened to five meters, it appeared as though viewed through the TV screen. He thought perhaps she had left the power on, but silent, not bothering to read its peaceful relaxation.
The man thought it strange that women not have returned to close the window, but is not fazed by the cold that was coming. The woman, when he was in the living room, had stood in the kitchen and there opened a cupboard stocked with food magazines, and there I could spend hours and hours reading the recipes I had seen a thousand times.
Each in its space abstracted by the sweetness of what they did, they forgot about each other and the world around them was limited to only one task of the moment: reading newspapers, reading it and recipes, her.
The flames took power and the napkin had been reduced to a dark gray and indelible slide, and had given fire to the tablecloth. The wooden candelabra reached a high degree of ease in the flames. Was bathed in part by the paraffin of the candle overheating. The other candle was still standing and reminded one of those soldiers static in front of the tomb of the unknown soldier.
The place where the candle had melted fall, was a whirlwind of fire and the wood plate dinner table, was buckling under the onslaught of flames. There was forming a dark circle from which rose a call between blue and yellow.
The man did not hear anything, still with their noses stuck in the newspaper. The window let in to stop it cold without flinching. The only one who felt that he was lowering the temperature the body was the man who, feeling that the hands and feet froze him, yelled that echoed throughout the house. The woman yelled some unintelligible words, they brought in the taste of air rage.
The man felt a burning smell, but not flinch, he said to himself, that perhaps the woman, as sometimes happened to him, left to burn something in the kitchen.
The man shouted again that she was cold, if you withdraw attention from the newspaper, this time there was clearly that the woman said she moved the greasy ass and to close the same window, if it was that was so cold: she was angry.
The woman ran from the kitchen and brought a string of words ready to put them in the face and the man who was fed up with his devilish quiet when he came home and sat on his throne.
All ammunition he had collected for the war that was planned, was seized by the surprise that was. Leaving the kitchen and enter the corridor leading to the lounge where the man was the easy chair, caught sight of a hot ball that rushed to the floor leaving a hole in the table and continued with small flames around him. The soldier statue fell down in flames.
The woman uttered a cry of helplessness and despair and went to the dining-room table smoking. She fell on her knees and covered her face with his hands. He burst into tears and cries of distress.
The man without taking his eyes from the newspaper, thought that the woman bawling because he had burned the biscuits in the oven and let out a snort behind the paper and only managed to say:
- Who understands!
The woman walked into another room in the house, but the man was still there, lying on a couch cheap, dark blue, devouring the newspapers he had stowed in a small table beside the sofa. The man had scheduled an afternoon of reading and did not want anyone to bother. A flash point consumed napkin stole a quick glance. And he went so deep in thought that what happened to five meters, it appeared as though viewed through the TV screen. He thought perhaps she had left the power on, but silent, not bothering to read its peaceful relaxation.
The man thought it strange that women not have returned to close the window, but is not fazed by the cold that was coming. The woman, when he was in the living room, had stood in the kitchen and there opened a cupboard stocked with food magazines, and there I could spend hours and hours reading the recipes I had seen a thousand times.
Each in its space abstracted by the sweetness of what they did, they forgot about each other and the world around them was limited to only one task of the moment: reading newspapers, reading it and recipes, her.
The flames took power and the napkin had been reduced to a dark gray and indelible slide, and had given fire to the tablecloth. The wooden candelabra reached a high degree of ease in the flames. Was bathed in part by the paraffin of the candle overheating. The other candle was still standing and reminded one of those soldiers static in front of the tomb of the unknown soldier.
The place where the candle had melted fall, was a whirlwind of fire and the wood plate dinner table, was buckling under the onslaught of flames. There was forming a dark circle from which rose a call between blue and yellow.
The man did not hear anything, still with their noses stuck in the newspaper. The window let in to stop it cold without flinching. The only one who felt that he was lowering the temperature the body was the man who, feeling that the hands and feet froze him, yelled that echoed throughout the house. The woman yelled some unintelligible words, they brought in the taste of air rage.
The man felt a burning smell, but not flinch, he said to himself, that perhaps the woman, as sometimes happened to him, left to burn something in the kitchen.
The man shouted again that she was cold, if you withdraw attention from the newspaper, this time there was clearly that the woman said she moved the greasy ass and to close the same window, if it was that was so cold: she was angry.
The woman ran from the kitchen and brought a string of words ready to put them in the face and the man who was fed up with his devilish quiet when he came home and sat on his throne.
All ammunition he had collected for the war that was planned, was seized by the surprise that was. Leaving the kitchen and enter the corridor leading to the lounge where the man was the easy chair, caught sight of a hot ball that rushed to the floor leaving a hole in the table and continued with small flames around him. The soldier statue fell down in flames.
The woman uttered a cry of helplessness and despair and went to the dining-room table smoking. She fell on her knees and covered her face with his hands. He burst into tears and cries of distress.
The man without taking his eyes from the newspaper, thought that the woman bawling because he had burned the biscuits in the oven and let out a snort behind the paper and only managed to say:
- Who understands!
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