She lost her breath

In the quiet town of Eldenbrook, there was a woman named Mira who felt like a poem. She moved with the bounty that stopped her laughing time to light the streets, and her familiarity ran deeper than the river that rolled the village. Mira was known for her dance.

Every night, she stepped into the town square and danced barefoot on the cobblestones as the sun soaked low and painted the sky in amber and purple. The kids gathered and applauded. The old man smiled and remembered the young man. Even the wind seemed to pause to see them fluctuating. But Mira was wearing a secret. She was born slowly and quietly stolen from her lungs. The doctor warned her family that she hadn't lived long, but Mira refused to become a prisoner of terror. When I had to lose my breath, she whispered to my mother and I danced as I danced.

On a golden night, when the villages gathered as usual, Mira returned to the square. Her body was more vulnerable, but her spirit was fire. The wind moved as if she wanted to join her. She turned around once, then raised her arm as a wing again. Her eyes closed, a loud smile was placed, and she fell into the final vertebrae. Please be silent. A bird cried in the distance. They rushed to her, but Mira was quiet.

Peaceful tranquility. There is no pain or fear - the last one gentle breath she wore in the breeze she had been dancing for the rest of her life. From that day on, there was a small statue at Eldenbrook Square. A barefoot woman with her arms raised in the sky. And whenever the wind blows the city, people say. «Mira dances again.

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