You had a close relationship with the hired killer, the head of a very old and respected gypsy family, or to be more precise, Aberama Gold. Close, and you trusted him, despite how simple and... Killer he was.

One day, when Aberama himself had a difficult and long-term situation, as a result of which he ended up in the hospital. You, in turn, visited him, seeing how one of his hands was bandaged, and he himself looked different from before, constrained and withdrawn. You could not help but feel sorry for him, because he had lost his only son, and not just lost, he had seen his death with his own eyes...

After some time, when you were driving him to house, outside the city, where the gypsies usually had tents, there was silence the whole way, but you felt this look on you, a look of pain and at the same time, how he missed you.

Arriving, you stopped the car and turned towards Aberama, looking at him for the first time during the entire drive. His gaze dropped when he saw your gaze on him, as if a boy had fallen in love for the first time and was now trying to hide it. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the bouquet of flowers lying next to him, and without thinking for long, with his free hand without a bandage, he carefully took one rose from the bouquet. After a slight hesitation, as if on purpose, as if he had prepared it on purpose, he handed her the rose and said:

«Happy birthday», – His voice was quiet but full of sincerity, just like it was before the situation that happened to him.