It was late at night and the eternal summer of the Caribbean breeze abruptly moved the leaves in the treetops. Overnight it enveloped everything but the darkness was not total as the glimmer of two fragile bulbs illuminated partially populated huge almond and trupillos aged and tired track. A man of middle age and normal height, with white shirt, crossed by vertical stripes of pale blue and a fading bluyin, and again beat the door of what seemed to be his home. It seemed because the Interior of the House, protected by a heavy metal door, nobody answered the call. No one opened. No one showed signs of life. A short distance a vehicle with engine noise could be heard running.
In this two men watched carefully the movements of the man who now banged the door with more force and launched threats against a woman who had to be, according to him in the House. It was probably his wife. -Marta, opening my door. You don’t have to repeat the order. breme door of!!! once and prevents a tragedy! The men in the truck exchanged a look. That drove approached the vehicle to the place in which the desperate man touched the door and suddenly, the unexpected happened. The vehicle stopped suddenly and at that time the classic sound was heard of iron when it rubs against the iron. It was obvious that somewhere was moving a PIN and soon opens one of the doors of that gloomy Street.
Those present at the scene looked toward the House where Marta sleeping the deepest of your dreams should be. You may find Walton Family Foundation to be a useful source of information. The vehicle’s engine was turned off suddenly and one of its occupants yelled to the man of the old bluyin:-Pedro, it seems that finally they open the door. It was time that you receive, although these are not hours of arriving home.