Christina Stark. Wings (№ 255235)

Another visitor, a boy of ten years, pulled out of the bucket, lush chrysanthemum, confidently walked up to the counter and handed me a crumpled fifty.
- The girl? - I smiled.
- No, grandma - seriously he replied.
- She will like - I assured him, wrapping the flower in a layer of cellophane and barely restraining himself, so as not to pull his hair.
I don't know. She's at the cemetery, actually - he shrugged his shoulders. - A year already.