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Mr. Kovár studied the photograph. He did not ask why. He simply nodded, took the book, and placed it on the highest shelf, between a marionette of Faust and a pocket watch frozen at 11:17.

"I don't want money," she said, her accent soft. "I want him to be remembered. No one comes to the cemetery anymore." czechpawnshop

"Nothing," he said. "Here, we only charge for hope. Memories are free." took the book

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. " she said