She had let down her hair — it lay a bit lower than her shoulders, and as she talked, she sometimes blew on the falling hairs or fixed them with her hand, quickly looking up at Artiom.
“… They coo like pigeons,” she said, nodding at the guinea pigs, then gave Artiom an orange. “Eat. Do you know how?”
Artiom took the orange.
He stood barefoot — he wasn’t about to put on his swamp boots.
All the more so because they warmed up the iodine plant — evidently, the scientists required warmth to be able to work.
“What, you don’t have any other shoes?” she asked more with concern than ridicule. “Why are you always in those swamp boots…? And you take such a long time to take them off.”
Artiom shrugged. Then he quietly said, “No.”
She looked at him again, a bit longer than usual this time, and
