Sans Dies Novels & Stories

Twenty minutes later, I’m done and turning my paper in to Professor Vassily’s desk. “Already?” He takes the paper from me. “Yeah. I love the book.” He chuckles. “You take after your father, I guess.” I stare at him. Professor Vassily rubs his temple. “I read your file. I saw that he was a professor. I’m sorry for your loss.” The suffocating feeling I’m always working so hard to keep at bay presses down on my chest. I’m right back there, standing in the living room with the phone pressed to my ear, hearing those awful words: “terrible accident”... “passed away”...