TRICERATOPS
It was a problem, after all. How to arrange a bottle of wine and four pastries in the satchel, in which Jaromír otherwise carried only croissants and tins of pâté, along with his journal, his books and the news… They could be jammed in, sure, but it would be nice not to destroy those pastries before he got home. Idiocy. He could just carry them in his hands, as they are, wrapped in paper, but he couldn’t see himself doing it, walking along the estate with a fluffy package. Might as well carry a nosegay. This was probably the main reason why he never bought flowers. For his own place, of course not, but not for others either… He’d have rather solved the whole thing with a box of chocolates, like in that joke about the policemen at the funeral. Nosegays and fluffy packages? No,
