In Anatevka, I knew a demon.
Let me start at the beginning—
The train carriage rocks. Sunlight glints off the silver podstakanniks holding the tea glasses. Cold tea splashes in its transparent prison. I feel sick, but it’s not the motion. Yesterday’s unfortunate encounters left me twisted up and strung out, like I’m coming off a week on smack. Every time the carriage lurches, my stomach does too, but there’s nothing there left to throw up but acid and bile. Every time I stop thinking about how sick I feel, I think about Victor.
I can’t be in your life, Lyova.
The whole time he was talking, I couldn’t say anything. My throat closed up. I couldn’t look at him.
You called fourteen times in two hours. I was at work! I couldn’t see the messages you were sending, never mind reply.
While h
