That moments it ends...short story

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Slowly the young woman straightened up, her knees without bumps, her lips were leggy, falling from her rocking chair, she was falling, not even able to take the silk shawl by her shoulders in a hurry.
I metioned that he actually could not even truly admit to himself, actually the young man caught the true black-covered notebook which was actually standing in the corner, then his eyes was been barely lifted from the actual chair which he was actually sitting on, and then he also made sure he touched the black-covered notebook.

He was stroking the leather cover as he started to turn his fingers one by one and after one or two three he came to the poem he wrote when everything was finished. As the words were pouring from his lips, tears flowed from his eyes, and his eyes were sacrificing a teardrop with each letter.

However, his father had never cried since the day he died, and for the first time he realized that he was so weak, he could not look at the face of the girl in his chest, he was ashamed.
His body was startled by the sound of the door, and he approached the door with trembling steps, holding all his breath and opening the door. The person whose hand came in her heart was her boyfriend, whom she had deceived over the years for forgetting, in fact, she had never forgotten her, but why did she come? The day she left, she was still bleeding like a bullet wound, she was in front of her with blond hair and blue eyes. The frozen words in his tongue were falling somewhere and breaking.

Should he have said welcome, why did you come? He just paused, parted his deep blue eyes, the man who burned ships for the sake of his beloved was in front of him exactly ten years later, what was it that brought him to his door, what made him wish? Words were pouring from her lips, with every word the young woman was dying and resurrecting, yes, she regretted it, but would the last regret be helpful, what about resentment over time?

Slowly the young woman closed the door and slumped behind her, the window was half open, suddenly the French cut curtain fluttered. One, two, three breaths, the eyelids of the young woman closed, and he realized that at that moment he became the Azrael, the man he loved, and came to pick him up. She walked away from her body barefoot with love against the wind.

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