I used to think the worst thing was leaving a man who had spent three years convincing me that something was wrong with me.
It turned out I was very wrong.
What’s truly terrifying is getting stuck in a remote village: the toilet is outside, you have to draw water from a well, the signal only works near the cemetery, and the neighbor looks at you as if you personally ruined his life.
He’s thirty. He’s a jack-of-all-trades, he has a ridiculous goat, and a talent for showing up exactly when I look my most miserable and helpless.
I’ll be thirty-five in a week. I’m on a deadline, my car is falling apart, and I’m seriously considering strangling him. We are completely incompatible. So why do I keep searching for the light in his window every evening, over and over again?
Yolochka, run. Really. Run.