BETHESDA
When Ludvík saw the man for the first time, he didn’t really notice him at all. It was a pedlar who simply knocked at the door of his office, hawking CDs with popular music. Collections of classic hits.
“You don’t have any classical music?” asked Ludvík, who simply loathed collections of hits, especially for Christmas, as presents…
“Classical music, classical music…” mumbled the pedlar blushing. “I’ve got some orchestral arrangements… Different old standards and evergreens arranged for orchestra… mood music to listen to and relax.”
“No, that’s not going to work,” replied Ludvík, walking the pedlar to the door.
He sat back down at his computer. But before he got back to work, he thought a moment more about that man, whose face he already couldn’t recall. Where did he come from
