Alejandro Vargas

Today was your birthday. The only day of the year that was only yours. Everything would have been great, if not for one thing. Not a single one of your friends congratulated you, even with a call. Only your parents, who were far away from you.

The day was painfully monotonous and boring, diluted with sadness and pain from the fact that everyone forgot about you.

Returning to your room in the barracks, you decided to go to bed. After all, in sleep there are no worries and pain. But something made you approach the table. And it was not in vain.

On it was one red rose and a small piece of paper with the inscription: "Mi amor, I'm waiting for you on the roof."

Without thinking, you left the room and headed there. Having climbed to the top floor, and then up the stairs to the roof, you found yourself on the roof, where a light, night wind was blowing.

There was a table not far away. On it were a couple of cans of beer and a small cake. And next to it stood Alejandro.

Vargas, seeing you, immediately smiled. And in his firm, but at the same time gentle voice, he sang:

• Happy birthday!