love

Adama, Adama, were are you, am waiting for you to come out...

I stroll about the home seeking for her, wondering where she might be and why she would have to leave in such a manner. It appears that the lady at the restaurant recognizes her.

Because I pushed her to go, she said she didn't want to go. When I walked into her room, she was sitting on the floor, staring out the window. I was depressed as a result of what I had done, so I sat close to her.

Adams, please don't be angry with me; I know I did something wrong; you said you didn't want to go inside the restaurant, but I forced you to do so; I'm sorry; what could I do to make it up to you?

She looks at me, smiles, and takes my hand in hers...