"She told me to bring it here. Specifically here. She said if I ever needed to find the truth about my grandfather, I had to bring this to the pawnshop under the shadow of the Church of Our Lady before Týn." The woman looked at him, her eyes searching. "She said you would know the price."
Mr. Bártová sat behind the counter, his fingers stained with ink from the ledger he was updating. He was a man who looked like he had been carved out of the same walnut as the furniture surrounding him. czechpawnshop
Bártová closed the case with a soft click. The silence in the shop deepened, the hum of the refrigerator in the back suddenly sounding like a jet engine. "She told me to bring it here
"Dobrý den," she whispered.
Empty. No cigarettes. But on the inside of the lid, taped with yellowing cellophane, was a black-and-white photograph of a woman laughing in a snowy street. In the background, the Gothic spires of the Charles Bridge pierced the grey sky. "She said you would know the price