The small two-stories house looked just like new, with a floor so clean you could eat from it, only a single chair in the entire living room, just one desk, and just one sofa. In all the photos was only one woman, a different location per photo, all of them exotic and expensive.
In the second floor, there were two rooms, one of them closed tight, and the other one open. Inside this second room were two persons; laying in the bed, an old woman, her face all wrinkled, and her hair all white. Holding her hand, sitting next to her, there was a young man, with a perfect skin, perfect hair, and an even more perfect face, he could easily be a model. But this time he didn´t looked so handsome, his face was red, and his eyes watering as he tried to contain the tears.
"Please don´t cry. You know I can´t stand looking at you if you cry." The woman´s voice was trembling, she lacked force even to speak.
He put up a smile, but it was obvious he was still in the verge of crying.
"I´m not crying, I swear" he said with the most strong voice he could use "You´re gonna be fine, right mom?" his voice almost broke at the last word.
She looked at him with loveful eyes, and answered with a voice trying to be strong "Of course, is just a little flu" her voice began cracking again. "but if you don´t mind, would you sing for me a little? I feel a little sleepy."
His voice was almost like the kind of things God would use in his personal chorus, a calm but powerful song rushed through his mouth, and entered in her ears.
As the afternoon sun that painted orange the room went down, also did her eyes, slowly closing untill she lost all force to even hold her own head.
He stopped singing, and checked her pulse, nothing. His face became neutral, as if he didn´t felt anything, wiped his tears, and as he exited her room, turned of the lights and closed the door without looking back.