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Post by Forte! on Oct 26, 2008 16:36:39 GMT -5
"I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you," Dmitri said, looking concerned as he saw her become upset again. What had he done? Why did so many sparks fly when he spoke here? He could hardly bear to look at Lorrie, upset as she was, instead staring at his scuffed boots, the leather cracked from years without being properly moistened. The laces were worn and frayed, the soles literally splitting from the bottom of the shoe. He would have to get new boots as soon as he had the time... or the money. The salary of a stable hand was not all that generous, particularly under Ivan. The boots would last yet.
He listened, but he didn't know what to say. He had felt the grief of losing a friend, of losing his sister when she had gone away, of those poor boys who starved to death on the streets of Leningrad and everywhere else in the world. But, as of yet this openness, willingness to speak of sadness, had never come over him. He kept it all bottled up, every time feeling as if soon he might erupt, and he had come close before. But he never had. There was too much pain for him to cause pain. Too much sorrow for him to be angry. Life was turmoil, but that was perhaps a good thing, it meant he never would explode.
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