Are you going to the sea on my money?” I raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t it seem to you, Zinaida Petrovna, that the road to the bus stop is the most you deserve?
Two years. Exactly two years since he’s no longer with us. Sveta stood by the window, gazing at the gray industrial landscape. The factory pipes released plumes of smoke into the sky, just like they did that day — the day everything collapsed. When the world turned upside down and split into “before” and “after.” … Read more