“So your wife is going to keep helping her mommy, giving her money, while I’m supposed to get by on nothing but handouts from you, son?”
“So your wife is going to keep helping her dear mommy, giving her money, while I’m supposed to survive on your handouts, son?” The question hit Igor like a slap across the face. In Galina Borisovna’s small kitchen, smelling of Valocordin and fried cabbage, it sounded unnaturally loud, as if it had been spoken in … Read more