She is sitting on the couch,
and telling her story.
I am listening.
She tells a story of herself.
Crying and smiling.
My tears are falling down.
But I am jotting down.  
She makes me  cup of coffee.
And sits down to finish her story.
She tells about a girl,
with long hair.
She was ugly,
but became pretty.
Her mom was rude.
But she was kind.
She was ...
At last she finished her story.
My notebook was with full of tears,
and with full of emotions she told me .
She told me not to tell her story to anyone.
And I kept her words.