And why are the angels so sad, momma? Because the good one die, and the bad ones keep on running around.
Miss Rosario had a lifetime of serving as a teacher; she had performed at her position, as the Science Professor, for more than thirty of her seventy eight years that summed up her age.
Sanctimonious, insomuch as she held a deep, passionate devotion. Miss Rosario, like her students, was the daughter of a policeman, Capitán Octavio Restrepo, who was killed by a bullet in the times of the Violence, when she was barely a child, preparing for her First Communion.
From that moment on, she became introspective, finding shelter in her studies, always standing out among the first places of her generation. Graduating with honours, she turned her affection to the hundreds of daughters, life had lent her; who went by through the years of her long life, in that classroom where she taught the Social Science course.
Celibate, even though when she was young, a failed romance almost led her to lose it, and still, on certain occasions of insomnia, half asleep, she would ask at night, what would have happened if…