"The smell of his perfume attracted her, so she followed it and pushed the locked door. She found herself again in the middle of the same darkness, and as the first time, she followed the ray of light and opened the window. When she turned around, the violin appeared to her in a corner of the room, his face buried between the chairs. She saw him silent, from the horror of the scene. The pulse had a sound for her. She gathered her strength after bringing calm to herself and moved forward from it, at the same time everything that came out of it was collapsing. She extended her hand and raised it. She saw the dust settling in it. She placed it on the ground, knelt next to it and hugged it to her chest as she said: "" I'm not here "" I repeated it many times. I ran to her, hugged her tightly, and she got up without looking at me, as if she was afraid to look at the disk of the sun. Her words remained, and what they left behind was like flying dust that reached my head, and her voice was born again: "Where is the person whose heart is softer than a pie?"
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