He pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket: the grave location, the section, the row. But everything was written so crookedly, as if scribbled in a hurry.

He walked along the indicated row — nothing. Again — still nothing.

Finally, he noticed a groundskeeper, an elderly man in a jacket and rubber boots.

“Excuse me…” — his voice cracked. “I’m looking for a grave. Here’s the surname. And here’s the document. Can you help me?”

The groundskeeper took the paper, squinted for a long time, then nodded:

“Oh… yes, I remember. We buried that girl. Rare name. Come.”

He led him to another section, not the one written on the paper. The groundskeeper waved his hand: