Editor's Choice
Olga’s never left home before the war thrusts her and baby son into a forty-hour drive in a cramped, smelly train. It stops now and then for the missiles to try their luck as she lulls her kid to air sirens. Telling him that life is precious, knowing that now it hardly costs a broken penny.
Sheepishly, she follows the smiley lady-volunteer to a new home, fearing about the price for their souls. In the kitchen, the woman opens the fridge and says in lame Ukrainian, “Pick anything. Free.” She repeats Free, and tears burn Olga’s eyes like chili pepper.
Sheepishly, she follows the smiley lady-volunteer to a new home, fearing about the price for their souls. In the kitchen, the woman opens the fridge and says in lame Ukrainian, “Pick anything. Free.” She repeats Free, and tears burn Olga’s eyes like chili pepper.
