— This is MINE! — Nastya slammed her palm on the table. — My apartment. My parents put it in my name. You moved into it as a husband. That’s it!
Nastya took off her boots at the entrance and stayed in just one gray, pilled but beloved wool sweater. The apartment smelled of fresh renovation, dust from the furniture, and slightly of paint. Although it was in a panel building, the apartment was her pride. Her parents, moving to Sochi permanently, had transferred the two-room … Read more