Sun Down In El Paso

Hank loughs with guilt thought while the smoke of cigarrattes tingle in his mouth. He has neumonia, "for God sakes"! But he enjoys smoking until the last drag. Finally there is a silence, like a chapel on Sunday mass; little rings bells at the distance sounds. Our friendship is tight he gave me his hand to pull him up. The silence remains in the chapel of his home, another puff, onemore puff, the last puff. The bells, still ringing he has chest pain, but latter a releif by a glass of ice coffe. We joke between puffs, we know life is short; let celebrate our dreams. Time passed by and the silence in the chapel remains untouched, one more whisper, one more drag he falls sleep with a childish face, all his worries are gone.