“Don’t like my mother? Then leave,” Ilya said. So I left. And I took my apartment with me.
The entryway of the two-room apartment near the old confectionery factory smelled of November dampness, unwashed tiles, and unfamiliar lavender detergent. Natalia remained standing on the threshold, a heavy plastic bag of milk and fresh bread still clutched tightly in her hand. Along the hallway wall, unfamiliar items had already crowded together: heavy checkered bags, … Read more