Romance about Immigration

- Well, customary, after the family leaves, to not traumatize the people unnecessarily. When they leave, please give us a sign.

- Our custom is to arrage the flowers on the hill and put the cross, only then we can leave.

- Lord, well, glad you said something, as we were waiting and waiting and did not understand. Obviously we have a lot more to learn about different traditions.

- So do we ...

The wet clods of earth fall, the gravediggers sweat like in August, the sun descends lower and lower; the shadows get longer and lilac. The priest explains in a low voice how when the weather warms up, the management will plant flowers again. I should buy lily of the valley, they finish quickly in spring, pink lily of the valley, lilac too, no, lilac will not be permitted at the very cemetery, but next to the fence it is fine. The first snowflakes start spinning like cherry blossoms that bloom already there, where my pal came from.

I arrive at the bus station. The crowded intercity coach is about to go right under my nose. Its driver starts closing the door, his eyes glide donw from the face red and puffy from crying, through the black kerchief and black coat to the boots plastered with mud up to my ankles. The uniformed man shakes his head and removes his bag from the reserve seat for the second driver. He takes out a water bottle and hands it to me.

- Get in! Will there be someone waiting for you?

I nod. The door closes.

- Dear passengers, we thank you for choosing ...