It was always the same. A new school class arrived at the youth hostel next door, and if the weather was good, some would gather in the yard and play football.
Calling out to each other, cheering, whooping, cursing, Charly wouldn’t mind much yet, but the sound of the ball hitting the wall of the room he worked in made him flinch every time.
When he opened the door for the florist, he went round to the hostel yard, and yelled, “Keep the noise down.” When he had the kids’ attention, he added, “We’re trying to prepare a funeral here.”