10th of January, 1946.
Dear Bandon (рывок...),
You're the bastard, you know that? I don't remember you too for what it's worth. And we are fine thank you ma'am (to your mother obviously). But the war took it's tall on us just like the others. Emotionally and physically.
You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to! I also don't have a lover! Nor lovers!!
You really should find yourself a hobby. Maybe you should try sewing! You know, to fill your free periods when you're not busy being irritating... Mine is music. Violin, especially! A really romantic instrument if you ask me.
I have a hard time imagining ladies being attracted by your "charm" with that attitude, comrade...
Oh and your father's saying is on spot! I say he's a lovely man. He's like Mama actually. Papa is a bit... Sour, for a lack for a better word. Grumpy is better. He's a cookie on the inside though. Now my brother, he's so adorable I just want to squish him from time to time! His name is Constantin. He's six years old.
Enough about me. So what happened to you? What's your story? Your real story, before the war?
If you ask me questions then at least expect answering some.
Later comrade,
Kseniya R.
PS: Happy new year to you too!!
PPS: don't ask anyone about the word on top! Search for it yourself please.
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RomanceBandon, 20. A dark sarcastic boy forced to communicate with a Russian girl. Why? None of your business. Kseniya, 19. A bubbly cheerful girl. More broken than the British boy actually. Equally sarcastic. Both traumatized. It's 1946. WWII had just...
