"Nothing," he said. "Here, we only charge for hope. Memories are free."
"I don't want money," she said, her accent soft. "I want him to be remembered. No one comes to the cemetery anymore." czechpawnshop
Mr. Kovár set down his cup. She placed the book on the glass counter. Inside were pressed flowers—forget-me-nots, faded to ghost-blue—and a photograph of a man with kind eyes, circa 1968. "Nothing," he said