Yaromir did not like the new house yet.

Its floors sighed at night, its windows showed unfamiliar trees, and every room smelled of cardboard boxes and rain.

While his parents argued gently with a stubborn wardrobe upstairs, Yaromir carried a flashlight down to the basement, hoping to find something that would make the house feel less strange.

Behind a stack of dusty paint cans, he found a small wooden box banded with brass, and on its lid his flashlight did not show his face. It showed a shining picture of what he wanted most.