The gate had been closed for many years. Its frame was twisted from waiting for the carts full of hay to come through it again. The poles of its foundation were sticking out of the top like rusty bones. Beside it, an old cart was waiting for its black horse. Its rheumatic wheels could barely hold it straight, so it was leaning against the wall. Nevertheless, some happy lights, perhaps the sparks of common memories, were pouring over the gate and the cart. This held them together for a long time, even though they were missing each other their whole life.