It’s pointless that you came, Vesnushka. You should have stayed in your Germany. It would have been calmer for you. And for me too. You could have remained in my memory as that cheerful freckled girl whose backpack I used to carry… Now you’re different. A stunner. A walking temptation. And I’m different too. I’ve been called “Black” for a long time now—without any smirks. And with fear. There are reasons. It’s bad that you came. It’s bad for you.