Daughter of the police officer who wore black riding boots, was polishing them, a call came, he had been killed in traffic accident. She put polish and brush into a cupboard, no longer a slave of a father who used boots as mirrors in the morning when shaving, and if he couldn´t see clearly, beat her with a leather strap. Father in his coffin, she polished his medals, he looked grand in death. But for the daughter, of the officer, each medal reminded her of the leather lash.
