Trafika Europe 13 - Russian Ballet

The Death of Samusis

Calming down, Zoya lay down beside Henry. They still made an attractive pair. What will she do without him? By education, she’s a commercial artist. Hadn’t worked in about twelve years. Try to find another man? But whom? However, it’s much too soon for us to think about that…. She raised herself up from the floor, straightened out her pinafore, and approached the window. Outside, the workers were still busy maneuvering the letter “A”. “NAM,” Zoya read what was left of the original two words. “Mrs. Samusis,” the head of the department called out to her. Zoya looked back inside. In front of her stood a stout, grey-haired man wearing an expensive suit of a bottle color and a dark yellow tie speckled with white polka dots. His brown shoes with tassels were shined to a genuinely blinding sheen. His cufflinks – well, his cufflinks would require an entire story. Zoya had never seen such cufflinks before. You could see right away – these are expensive cufflinks. Just one such cufflink was easily worth three hundred dollars. The frames of his glasses, the tinted lenses – likewise expensive. The smell of his eau de cologne – expensive. Haircut, expensive. “Mrs. Samusis, I ask you, Mrs. Samusis, to please accept my most sincere condolences. Believe me when I say that for all of us, for this entire department, the loss is irreplaceable. And only this year, I intended to


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