“No, Elena Sergeyevna, I am not your cook. And I am not your nurse. This is my home, not your private boarding house.”
“No, Elena Sergeyevna, I am not your cook. And I am not your caregiver.” Olga flipped the cutlets in the frying pan and sighed. The kitchen smelled of fried meat, onions, and just a little bit of disappointment. That tile by the sink had chipped back in winter, and Dmitry kept promising to find a … Read more