The Aftermath Of Forever: Short Story

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The Aftermath of Forever From the shoulder of the crinkled hill, I take in a deep breath as I watch the city slowly being swallowed by fog, draining the colors into gray, the stars starting to scatter in the heavens, the noise of the buses going up and down the road would eventually die down, and the bustle of people in the public market would languidly cease. I can feel the balmy mountain air gently pat my bare hands, the back of my neck, my greasy hair with streaks of gray, and my crimp cheeks harrowed by time. As I sit bleary-eyed, I remember a memory causing me to paint a ray of sunshine all over my face, a wan smile that could not be seen in the dimming light. It’s the story of the meaning of true love. I am Harry Stiles. I was a once a farmer. I’m still the same man who saw the growth of the city from a little community into a haven of light and music, people and cars, architecture and art. I remember the time as young boy, I never thought of going away from Abucay, a place where I was born. I loved how people live in there, how menfolk gather woods into big bundles to be sold in the big city, how gaily dressed women, sturdy and full of life, harvesting gabi and camote on the hillsides, putting them in big baskets which they carried on their backs as they went down the trails, and how the children use the green grass as their play area. My dreams, too, had been born in Abucay. I would build my house there- the strongest and the biggest house in Abucay-

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