“I want your tea. With trees,” she said hoarsely. She had screamed herself out. And she couldn’t get up yet; he had to do that first.
He got up, left, and for the first time felt much more confident that he would return and now everything would be well. Now it couldn’t end badly. At least, not immediately.
The thermos, thank goodness, didn’t break.
“What about the pie?” she cried from the room, where, judging by her voice, she was dressing. “You forgot the pie. Get the pie!”
They drank the tea, and Galia said, “Ask me, ‘why me?’ I have to explain myself.”
“I have no right to address you without permission,” Artiom answered.
She laughed quietly and warmly.
She had her fill of laughter and said, “You struck Sorokin. I knew that they would put you in solitary and kill you soon after. Y
