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Chapter Seventeen:
Evgeniya lived about 20 miles away from my father, in a small home. Wooden cottage style. I parked my vehicle and double-checked my messages to make sure I had the right place. When I was sure, I surveyed the structure gravely. It was a dark brown house, crafted out of logs and various sturdy materials. Just like you’d see with classic housing, the brick chimney produced a thick cloud of grey smoke. Watching it release into the cold starless night, I reluctantly slid out of my car and grabbed three packages from the backseat. In Russia, we always bring gifts when we’re visiting. Even if the hostess is the mother who abandoned us as a child.
I felt the scowl creeping up and struggled to hide it. You’re here to talk. You came on your own, don’t be rude. I scolded myself silently, trudging up to Evgeniya’s front door. Before I could change my mind, I quickly knocked three times.
Knock, knock, knock
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Our Blank Canvas Chapter Nineteen:
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