His hair is slicked back, though I see hints of silver threading through the dark at his temples. Haven’t noticed that before. He has our mother’s jaw, sharp and gaunt, and according to her, he also has our father’s dead eyes—though I wouldn’t know that from personal experience. The old man f****d off before I could form memories.
He’s smoking, of course. The cherry of his cigarette bobs in the gloom like a malevolent firefly as he pulls a second chair across the concrete and sets it down in front of me. The screech of metal on stone sets my teeth on edge.
Aleksei settles into the chair backwards, arms folded across the backrest. “You look terrible, Semyon.”
“I blame your hospitality. I’m leaving a negative review when I check out, just so you know.”
Aleksei chuckles. “Still with the m
