Carlos, every Sunday was going to picnic. So he called it. It was not a picnic . Their Sunday afternoons to escape the world consisted of the stifling routine and time of slavery.
First, on Sunday had to be played by some light. The rain was saddened. When I went out and saw that sun ... although not enough, smiling. And why not. The accompanying music. Lively music. Decided that Sunday listen to songs from the famous Amélie. He
stop. And bought your favorite ice cream, chocolate and cream . He was happy. not only for everything, but because they coincide with the embittered, who lived only Saturday night thanks to fuel alcohol. Carlos
not envied nor the least. Must have owl complex, they said.
arrives on time, ten o'clock. Bethlehem was waiting in front of Sturbucks . a frappe in hand and the other The House of the Spirits Isabel Allende of .
- Good morning, Carlos.
"Every day is good with you.
They kissed and Carlos proved that vanilla frappe.
reached the park, stretched a blanket and lay down. Breathed the smell of freshly cut grass and began to talk about everything. In Bethlehem he was playing a word, and then began to talk like that.
- Macaroni. Macaroni and cheese.
-Ami I like the pasta jajajajja
- Can one be happy only with a plate of pasta? "Affirmative, I am proof jajajjaja
Charles was a little worried Bethlehem, Thursday was a bit listless.
"Well, let's play a quick game.
"Okay.
- Red or blue?
- Red.
- Mountain or beach?
- Sandy.
- Why are you angry?
"Because you called me boring. Bethlehem
hallucinated. - This game has cheat! Jajaja
- Bethlehem, sorry. I said it without thinking. You're fantastic. And above all, more fun than me. .............................
What vacation? I hope great! Until the week, be happy:) **
BY READ IF YOU DO NOT HAVE! Ainsi c'est la vie (Story of nine chapters) 
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