““Beauty cannot be traded,” she thought, watching Yuri, in search of cheaper flowers, run from one merchant to another, “it must be given.” Sonya admired the large yellow roses being sold by a young woman in warm, sweatpants. It suddenly seemed to her that if she pressed this huge bouquet directly to her face and inhaled the aroma of magnificent flowers with her whole chest, her soul would brighten, cleared of the pain that had been preventing her from living for several years. Sonya involuntarily leaned forward, carefully peering at each yellow petal. “Girl, buy it!” They are simply wonderful! - the young woman shouted loudly to her, noticing her interest in the roses. “Go, take a closer look at them,” the girl had already taken the bouquet out of the jar and handed the flowers to Sonya. Carefully, like a child, Sonya hugged the yellow miracle to herself. “If he gives them to me, then everything will be fine with us,” she wished, looking for Yura with her eyes. Gerasimov immediately noticed her gaze and, smiling broadly, nodded his head.”