He ran through the park under the starry night, the august wind passing across his hair. He ran through the street, through dark alleyways and lonely avenues. He left behind the safety of the street lamps and entered in the darkness of the night. He bought a bouquet of flowers and kept running, passing through tall trees and gloomy snow.
And as he ran, he passed rainy buildings, turned sharply on corners and the sky seemed to clear, to go lighter. The steps became swifter and faster and the snow started to fall. As his shoes splashed on the puddles, his bouquet bloomed adorned with the sky’s teardrops.
The rain drops played the chords of the violin to with rhythm the city sang and his steps gave the touch of the endless symphony. The magic orchestra felt everlasting as he crossed the city. The car lights sparkling in front of his eyes and the wind whistling near his ear. As he arrived to his destination, he raised his eyes to the sky and night covered his thoughts.
Just as his disappointment arose, he ran wildly again through the rainy, cold night to take the cloaked bouquet now crying of loneliness in his hand to that beautiful stranger staring from under the faint street lamp over there.
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