There were three of them—two in their early forties and a younger one, about twenty. They were huddled together in the pub, warming themselves by the stove and passing a bottle of vodka from one to another. On the counter beside them stood another bottle—already empty.

“Damn cold,” said one of the older men. He was tall, with a beard and what appeared to be a knife scar on his forehead. “There’s never been cold like this in mid-September.”

“It’s been holding on for a whole week now,” said the other, forty years old, shorter, a dark-skinned man. “You’d think snow was about to fall. Hey, Vladi, my boy, easy with the bottle. I want a drink too.”

“You pretty much drank the last one all by yourself,” Vladi said, but handed him the bottle anyway.

“I’ve had two, three sips at most. You and Sava drank too.”

Sava slapped him on the back of the head.

“Ow. What was that for, boss?”

“Because you drank it yourself. And you’re lying.”

Nasko shrank and said nothing. It was apparent he was afraid of Sava.

“Nasko, don’t curl up like that. Sava only hands out slaps; he won’t raise a hand to you,” Vladi said reassuringly.

Sava only snorted.

Nasko shrank even more, but gratefully took the bottle from Vladi.

“We’re yapping away, and there’s no money. I’ve got almost nothing left from that old bag whose purse we snatched at the Women’s Market. Why the hell did you bring us here, Sava? To the cemetery.” Vladi looked around. “To some run-down tavern. There’s no work here.”

“I’ve got something in mind,” Sava winked.

“What is it, boss? What are you planning?” Nasko dared to ask.

“I talked to an acquaintance. Works at a funeral home. He saw something and told me over a drink. Let it slip…”

“And what did he tell you? That we should go stealing food off graves? The rats have already taken care of that.” Vladi glanced at his watch. “It’s eleven. Maybe there’s a bottle of wine left somewhere, but the Gypsies have probably taken everything.”

“They won’t bother us with this job. We’re here for something else. But do you have the guts?”

“What do you mean, boss? Why would we need guts? We’ve got plenty already. You want us to go crazy?” Nasko jumped in.

“Haha,” Sava laughed from the heart. “Exactly! This takes a bit of madness.”

“Why? Who are we stealing from? Graves?” Vladi joked, but fell silent when Sava shot him a look.

“I’ve hidden two shovels outside by the monument workshop…”

“So we are robbing graves. You really are crazy!” Vladi exclaimed.

“Shut up! Lower your voice. Why’d you go pale? I thought you weren’t afraid of anything. Such a brave man! No one’s going to catch us. We’ll dig up a fresh grave.”

“What do we need to dig a grave for? What belongs to the dead is theirs forever,” Nasko protested.

“This is different. Today, they buried a girl with a gold necklace her mother gave her when she was little. The guy who told me doesn’t have the nerve to dig it up himself, but he let it slip.”

Nasko stared at the toe of his shoe, kicking the chair leg. Vladi rested his chin on his hand and stared through the cobweb-covered window into the darkness.

“It’s not right. Stealing from the dead,” Vladi said, finally.

“What, you religious now?”

“And I don’t want to steal from a dead girl. That’s bad luck,” Nasko added.

“What a pair of cowards you are! What are you afraid of? If there’s a Last Judgment, we’re screwed anyway. At least we won’t be cold,” Savata snickered.

The three of them fell silent. Vladi and Nasko looked down. Savata glanced from one to the other.

“It’s quick work, boys,” he finally coaxed them. “Two dig, one keeps watch. If someone comes, I whistle, and we scatter. Nasko, boy, look at me. Look at me.”

Nasko slowly lifted his eyes from the floor.

“Have I ever lied to you? Every job I’ve found has worked out. Will we finish this one, too? We’ll have money for vodka. And for women—you like women, I know you.”

Nasko couldn’t help smiling.

“They like me.”

“So you’re in?”

“Alright. Let’s do it.”

“That’s what I like. A straight guy you are. Vladi, you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you in a hundred percent?”

“Boss, look, I’m not sure about this.”

“Boy. When have I lied to you? How long have you been with me? I’ve always found good jobs. Come with us. Nasko and I can handle it on our own, but it’s better with you. You’re a partner.”

“What are you making me do? Where are you taking me?” Vladi whispered to himself. After a pause, he added, “Damn, it’s bad without vodka and without money in your pocket. Is the necklace worth it?”

“My friend said it was big. They shouldn’t have buried her with it. They brought it on themselves. Are you in?”

Vladi nodded and lowered his head.

“That’s my boy! Here, take the bottle. Drink up, drink up. Let it warm you—it's cold outside. And give you courage.”

Vladi took a big swallow. Then handed it to Nasko, who drank long as well. The bottle went around a few more times until it was empty.

“Now, let’s go,” Sava commanded.

They left the tavern, slightly unsteady on their feet. Outside, the cold air sobered them a bit, but they still staggered toward the cemetery. Once, Nasko tripped and fell. Sava laughed and kicked him, then bent down and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“Get up, partner. Are you a man? Some vodka knocked you down?”

“No, I just tripped on something.”

“Move. And not a sound. The shovels are over there.”

They took the shovels from a bush by the workshop and continued in silence.

“We’re close to the cemetery,” Sava said. They circled the guardhouse from afar and entered the grounds. Once inside, Sava stopped. He pulled a note from his pocket and read it by the light of his phone screen.

“Plot thirty-three. A few rows ahead, then left. Follow me.”

Vladi walked with his head down. He heard a sound, like someone coughing. Startled, he looked around—there was no one. Is someone here? he thought. No. My nerves are shot. It’s full of dead people—if anyone’s here, he’s a ghost, and ghosts keep quiet.

Sava and Nasko walked ahead. Vladi blew into his hands; they were cold. He was freezing, yet sweating, cold sweat running down his back and stomach.

This is ugly, he thought. How far have I sunk—robbing graves? What’s next—killing someone?

Still, he followed Sava. That was easy. It’s hard to find a way without a light to show you the way, hard to find your way through a cemetery at night. Sava was that light—he knew where to go.

They reached the grave.

“This is it. Meet the job. Bozhana… this is who we’ll dig up. Nasko, take this shovel. Vladi, take that one.”

“And you—what will you do?”

“I’ll go to the corner and hide in those bushes. If you hear a dog bark, run—that means I’ve seen the guard,” Sava said and started. Before disappearing into the darkness, he turned back.

“And don’t let the ghosts eat you,” he said and laughed loudly. Then the darkness swallowed him.

“Let’s get to it. It won’t dig itself,” Nasko said and started shoveling. The soil was loose and easy to dig. The work warmed Vladi up. From time to time, he paused, listening for a dog, but only the dead were there, with their eternal silence.

They reached halfway. They were inside the grave now, throwing the dirt out—harder work, having to heave it upward.

At one point, Sava appeared, saw the progress, snorted, and vanished again.

Strange thing, Vladi thought. Why do I feel so awful? Would I care if someone dug me up? Not at all. Except my mother would feel terrible, seeing my grave disturbed.

The thought startled him. He stopped digging and straightened up. Beside him, Nasko worked stubbornly, panting with every shovelful.

“Nasko,” Vladi whispered. “Listen to me.”

“What is it, man? Why’d you stop? Dig,” the other replied breathlessly.

“Nasko! Wait!”

“Someone coming?” Nasko looked around, frightened.

“No one’s coming. Look— I don’t care that we’re robbing a dead girl. But imagine what it’ll be like for her family. Her mother, her father, when they come tomorrow and see someone dug up their daughter’s grave.”

“I don’t care,” Nasko said and kept digging. “You’re only thinking of that now?”

“Only now. I was wondering what felt so wrong. That’s it.”

“Dig. If it bothers you so much, cover the grave afterward.”

Vladi hesitated, then bent back over the shovel.

Soon they reached the coffin. They cleared around the lid. Nasko leaned down, lifted it slightly, then let it fall.

“Look, I don’t mind robbing graves, but I’m scared of the dead. You go get the necklace.”

They switched places. Nasko climbed out, and Vladi went down to the coffin. He lifted the lid aside, leaned in, and shone his phone’s light.

The dead girl lay almost smiling, her hands folded on her chest.

How peaceful she looks. She came into this world and quickly finished whatever she came to do. Or maybe she didn’t. Only she knows.

He searched for the necklace. He saw it. Carefully unclasped it and pulled it free. It was heavy, solid gold. He handed it up to Nasko, who took it. Then Vladi carefully closed the coffin.

“Come on, brother, give me your hand,” Nasko said, pulling him out.

Outside, the earth lay in two mounds on either side of the grave. Looking at the dug-out grave made Vladi sad again. He thought of the girl’s parents.

“Hey—listen. I’m going to say something. It’ll sound crazy, but help me.”

“What is it, brother? Let’s go. We’ve got the necklace. Let’s get out of here—I’ve got chills.”

“Let’s fill the grave back in. So it won’t hurt them tomorrow.”

“So it won’t hurt them? Are you serious?”

Vladi nodded. Nasko laughed.

“Cover it yourself. I’m getting out of here.” He walked away, swallowed by the darkness.

Vladi hesitated, ready to follow him, but one last look at the dug-up grave made him stay. He grabbed the shovel and threw dirt onto the lid. The earth made a dull sound as it hit the coffin. Vladi liked the sound somehow and threw more dirt. At least cover the lid so the rats don’t get in, he thought.

He covered the lid. The loose soil was easy to work with. A bit more dirt, then more. In the end, one couldn’t tell the grave had ever been dug up.

When he finished, Vladi walked through the cemetery with the two shovels. After a while, he realized he was still carrying them and threw them into a bush. At one corner, he lost his way and wandered among the graves for a long time—aimless, without direction. After half an hour, he finally reached the cemetery fence and climbed over it.

He stepped out onto the boulevard. He walked down the sidewalk, thinking. He felt that some invisible thread between him and the others had been severed. He was alone.

And no, which way? he thought.

He knew a pub close by. He would buy himself a drink there. In alcohol, he would find serenity—at least for a little while, if not a way.

He began walking quickly, while the yellow streetlights stretched and shrank his shadow again and again.