depend not know if the accident or what but the fact is that it is sufficient that cites someone who does not know anything much to return. It happened to me in two very recent cases. And, coincidence or not, there are other times when the reverse is the same. It suffices that write about The Spy , who had more than a year almost every day parked in front of our place of work, to go away and we did not know anything about it. They are curious links you establish with people with whom you do not join anything that they even leave a void when they disappear. Not only in the case of spy, but all those people you agree when you have a habit and become part of it, but never speak to you. Something similar, perhaps, to those displayed by the blogosphere, are established, make a hole, leave comments and one day disappear without a trace. Life goes on and is not to make a drama but still curious how many people they can become part of your life without them even knowing it can reach.
the spy was. No goodbye. He did not say goodbye. His silver gray car disappeared. The indirect labor of the company we were a bit helpless. Today has not been. Maybe tomorrow. It's been two weeks. Just found a job. Like you have paid. Just dead. The spy left. And let's talk about it. And aparcábamos in place. Then came Christmas. And I remembered. And I wish happy Christmas to your empty slot. And he congratulated the new year. And he spent Christmas. And it happened in January. And got to keep one thing in the car to avoid que se me volviese a olvidar. Y junto a mi coche, en el sitio del Espía, estaba aparcado un coche negro completamente nuevo. Y dentro del coche negro estaba él, con su cabeza ovoide. Y subí corriendo las escaleras hasta mi cubículo gritando -¡ha vuelto! ¡Ha vuelto! Y la mano de obra indirecta nos agolpamos ante la ventana. –Vaya coche molón. –Es nuevo nuevo. Mira la matrícula. Y empezamos a reírnos. Nos sentíamos bien. El Espía había vuelto. Ya estábamos todos.
En mi finca vive El Sicario. Tendrá cerca de cincuenta años. Es natural de un país sudamericano que debe su nombre a cierto marino que se supone nació en Génova y que se empeñó en llegar a las Indian traveling clockwise. It is not very high, but has a huge back and biceps the size of two Miguelete. He likes to go with the arms in the air showing their tattoos Mephistopheles. He has a girlfriend twenties quite curvy and full of nooks and leads a gunboat. No detail is missing. Also does not work. Or not seem to have a normal job. I do not know if it's here to escape the drug lords hiding in your country or rather is a mercenary dedicated to settling of accounts. Or is a simple fellow who fights for peace in the world. I acknowledge that I see the news only if you leave El Sicario. The fact is that I get along with him. - What, , citizen? - How you doing, , citizen? - Another see to run, , citizen? To me that is not going to run. My little girl wants to run around but I have told you these things I do not make.
-Man, you do not think you need it running. At the end of the day will go in the back seat of a motorcycle, come to where is his victim, he will shoot in the head, then two more in the head to finish him off and immediately will fly. While the motor function does not matter if you run or not.
But that did not tell him.
"Well, you have to run like. Almost nobody likes. That yes
told him.
Sicario On the balcony of the rented places. He's gone. Not been dismissed. I do not know if it has gone to escape the INTERPOL. I do not know if you have located the rival gangs. I do not know if all accounts had already adjusted for this area and has been franchised to other Lares. The Hitman is gone. And his tattoos has been terrible. And his girlfriend too. The Spy is back. And we're happy. But the gunmen are gone. I do not know why happiness can never be complete. Goodbye, citizen, l and miss. And I'll keep watching the news. Just in case.
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