I sell gold
I arrange these beautiful, golden chrysanthemums in vases. I put them into a cooler place in my flower shop, because I know, after all, that they do not like too much heat. Behind the shop window the wind was bending the rowan tree, now almost devoid of leaves. Just a bunch of red beads do not give up, piling up along with the branches and bending in the opposite direction to the wind. That"s why beads beautifully present themselves on the background of a gray wall of the small bakery building. The rain starts to fall. The door opens suddenly and a man enters the flower shop, closing his wet umbrella. What do you sell here? - the man asks. I sell gold - I responded jokingly, showing my favorite, golden chrysanthemums and taking the a vase. The man raised his eyebrows surprised if they did not understand what I"m talking about. I sell gold - I repeated once again. This time the man, without a word, points out the whole bunch, which I am holding in my hands, so without a word and I am starting to pack the chrysanthemums and handed him a bundle of flowers. He puts a hunderd dollar note into my hands and without looking back he disappeared in the darkness.