Marc Levy. Between heaven and earth (№ 391889)

On the day of her death - I swear it's true - the garden the bees flew from the hive, none of them collected honey from our garden, if they knew... I'd like at least five minutes to turn into a little boy hiding from everyone in the ring of her arms, lulled by the sound of her voice. Once again feel like running back down my spine when waking from sleep, when she calls me, swiping your finger across the chin.