"No one knew about Persian cats, except her. I have no memory of her eyes anymore. She is gone."
He was smoking a cigarette and thinking about the footsteps they heard together. Slowly and desperately getting older, more neurotic, more meaningless. He looked at his blood stained shirt, and smelled the fresh perfume on his hands. People were chanting in the streets, he had to go. She had the most enchanting eyes, he could not see them anymore. She was lying in front of him, with open eyes. Calmly breathing the infinity.
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