— At my mother-in-law’s jubilee she called me a “country bumpkin.” I silently played a video where she’s on her knees begging me for a loan, not knowing who was in front of her…
The hall of the expensive restaurant was awash in lilies and an atmosphere of meticulously choreographed cordiality. Yelizaveta Ignatyevna Veresayeva, my mother-in-law, was celebrating her fifty-fifth birthday. She stood in the center of the room, in a sapphire-colored dress, basking in admiring looks. She raised her glass, sweeping the guests with the heavy, velvety gaze […]
Продолжение...