On Waiting, Praying, and Not Sneaking a Peek

I tiptoed down the stairs moving slowly and deliberately. Every once in awhile I’d freeze, certain I heard footsteps approaching, then resume my movement down this deviant path. I’d laid in bed for a long time thinking about this. I’d tried to...

Russian Eyes

We were standing in a pizza shop in the middle of Red Square, the heart of Moscow beating steadily outside the dirty windows. I nibbled at the crust, politely smiling every time Sergei, our translator and guide, looked at me, his eyes filled with hopeful anticipation...

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