Two people walked together, not knowing when the path was going to end. But they knew how: death. Whether one died before the other, their friendship would not end until a grave was dug from the ground and their body placed in it.
They walked for one year, two years, three years… and then the years became a decade. And on the second decade, one person decided to leave the path. The other person then walked alone, but so used to being next to someone else, the path seemed so much wider and longer than before. So lonely.
The secret writer 