She was dead. He couldn't believe it. The savior of Argentina was dead.

He stood up and turned off the radio, which had been broadcasting information about Eva's death for hours now. He couldn't listen anymore. How could they even have the radio on at a time like this? It didn't seem right.

Eva had been so beautiful and so pure. She wasn't exactly a saint, as everyone made her out to be, but she was still a good woman. She fought so hard for the working class people, people like himself. She knew what they went through. She'd worked so hard to get from the top to the bottom, and she hadn't let anything stand in her way. She wanted the same motivation for the Argentine people and she succeeded at making them all fight for the rights that had been taken away from them by the aristocrats, who turned their heads when someone tried to show them the hardships they went through.

But it was difficult to turn your head away from someone as influential as Eva. She knew how to get your attention and inflame you with passion for things you never knew you had any passion for inside. Without Eva, Peron would have been just like the rest of them. An arrogant upper-classman who didn't give a damn about those who suffered most. But Eva gave everything to them, even her very own life. Yes, she had been killed by cancer but that didn't mean her hard work wasn't a part of her terrible death.

He would always remember Eva as the most wonderful woman he'd ever encountered. Although he'd never met her in person he felt as if he'd known her all his life. And he felt priveledged to have known such a fine woman, who never hesitates to stand up for the people no one wanted to stand up for. Her people. Without her, his life would be dull and meaningless, as it had been long ago, before her. She was a legend that would never die, especially not in his memory.