the old stable

I walked by my grandfathers stable hoping he was there after our last quarrel, I didn't see him but I saw all the horses in the stable. The night light was still on so I dimmed it a bit, I don't know why, but I usually do when I come by the stable. My grandfather always had the same number of horses, if one died a new one filled its place the day after. That's why he was considered one of the greatest horse trainers in the world,quality before quantity. I walked and saw, black, white, red and spotted calmly in their stables. One day this will be mine, but I hate horses. But it's a tradition within our family that passes generations through centuries. From the days when our skin color was almost black.

Every summer I spent them here, taking care of the horses, taught a profession I always despised.

I opened a dozen stable doors, and saw them running out upwards the hills. I did something my grandfather always does.