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My Final FarewellMy Final Farewell
I want to say one thing,
Just one thing before I leave.
I love you.
I lived for you.
As you lived for me.
But when I go you will suffer.
So this will be my final farewell to you.
I LOVE YOU!!
Farewell my love.
I will never forget,
Even when you forget me.
For when you wake up,
I will no longer be here.
Why am i alive?Why am i alive?
I ask myself this everyday.
Sometimes i answer it.
But a few hours later, I take it back.
Why am i alive?
Will I ever answer this question?
I hope i can one day.
Before its to late.
Village Hidden Behind the MoonThe sky is illuminated by the moon, revealing the dark red color that stains the earth.
The lives of many ninja abruptly end on this night of Nightmare.
In the village hidden in the leaves, the hokage sent team Yamato on simple mission, to deliver a peace agreement regarding village destruction on the borders of the land of fire and the land of wind. The members of team Yamato comprised of Yamato, Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke. They immediately set off on their mission that day. The peace agreement was to be delivered to the Kazekage, of the village hidden in the Sand. It will take Team Yamato 3 days and 3 nights to reach the hidden sand village. Two days on the journey Yamato orders the team to rest for the night for they will arrive at the dessert tomorrow and wants them to rest for its journey. Yamato used his wood style nin-jutsu to build a house for them to sleep in, and Sasuke builds a fire and has everyone gather around to explain the detail
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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