LibertysKidsFans

- It was late. At this period of spring the sun started to take its time to go down, as lazy as the poor souls its first warm rays lashed. Despite the chandelier on the table, his old eyes couldn't read any longer; Thomas carefully placed a paper between the pages and put down the book on his lap where a blanket already rested. It had become a habit -almost a routine- for years to end the day on the terrace behind the house, just a few steps from the open door, a pipe occasionally between his lips. Two hands marked by the years took his glasses from his aquiline nose, 3 or 4 grey hairs caught in the metallic arms. Head against the back of