Winter, 1920

It was a strange fancy of hers to stay in Kiev and to work at the hospital. As if there wasn’t enough sorrow around them, she wanted to look at it closely every day.

“I want to do what I can”, she said. “I can not do much, but it is something!”

How could he argue with that?

Still, her lover didn’t share her desire to help sick and wounded, but this was what she wanted. She was kind and that might have been one of the reasons why he loved her (he didn’t know himself).

He’d pick her up every night and they would walk home together, her small fragile figure next to his, his long white hand slightly touching her delicate waist. He was much taller then her, but they still looked more like brother and sister then lovers. They both had snow-white skin, large dark eyes and jet-black hair.

They walked around Andreevskaya church (they never went inside). Once when it snowed heavily and the streets were empty he smiled playfully at her, saying:

“Let’s not take the stairs today. Why don’t you jump instead?”

“I can’t” she answered timidly ”It’s two stores higher then the ground.”

“The air will hold you, believe me.”

“What if someone sees us, won’t they understand what we are?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer; instead he took her hand in his

“You’ve never done this before, little coward?”

“I am afraid”, she admitted.

He looked at her, his eyes locking with hers for a minute “Trust me.”

 

They jumped, slowly floating through the air. Her eyes were wide with shock for a second, but when her feet touched the ground she giggled.

“Hurry up, let’s go before somebody sees us,” he said to her in a low voice and that reminded her of the past when he talked to her as if there was a secret only they two shared.

They’d get home (they lived in a little apartment not far from Andreevskij spusk then). She’d take off her hand muff, gloves that covered her wrists, her heavy coat with large fur color and fur cuffs. Before she’d have a chance to take off her wool shawl, he’d start kissing her. He’d lift her slightly bended hands up, holding her thin white wrists; his kisses would start very light then becoming more and more passionate. She’d look at him, as always hypnotized by his marvelous face, satisfying her urge to see and touch him, breath in his scent and hear his voice.