No job. No money. No man.
On Monday, Nina returned her to the institute. This time Julia didn’t offer Raisa any of her food. During a lull in activity, she snuck to the bathroom, where she’d stowed her bag behind the metal trash bin. It was only when she was in a stall with the door locked that she opened the sack and counted the wrapped meals inside.
Last week, there had been five. Now Julia counted three.
On Tuesday, Julia went to the worker Sophia, the one who wore a strong vanilla perfume, whom Julia believed to be in charge. She asked if Sophia might help her call Nina.
‘What for?’ Sophia asked. Pretty Sophia, with her singsong voice and clear complexion and plaited yellow hair. Her employment at the institute – where the rest of the helpers notched between ancient and miserable –
