— This is my personal apartment, not a hotel for healthy skulls! — Antonina Sergeevna snapped.
Antonina Sergeevna put the kettle on and sat down on a stool. The morning was gray, like most days lately. She glanced at the clock — quarter to nine. Outside, rain was drizzling, leaving winding trails on the window. Drops slid down, merging with each other to form intricate patterns. The three-room apartment she … Read more