Pavel
I hate funerals.
I guess everybody does, but they disturb me on a fundamental level. The expressions on people’s faces. The sorrow. The crying.
When they start lowering Yuri’s casket and his sister breaks down, falling to her knees onto the muddy ground, I can’t take it anymore. I turn around and head toward the parking lot while cries and pained screams ring out behind me. Even when I’m in my car, driving back home, I can still hear them in the recesses of my mind. The fact that we still have no clear proof of who’s behind the attack makes it even harder to process.
As I reach for the bell in my eagerness to hear Asya skirring to open the apartment door, I realize I’m still wearing the suit. I have a black coat over it, but it may still disturb Asya. I planned on taking a cha
