From Russia, With Love

In the next few days, Vladimir began to ignore her, and he would not answer nor would he return her calls. She was kind of broken-hearted. She would try very hard to talk to him in the store, but he would just nod at her then return quickly to his work. Finally, one day she grabbed hold of his forearm. He looked at her. His eyes seemed to soften. All week they had been hardened to her.

“Yes?” he asked tenderly.

“Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why? We had such a nice friendship. I just wanted to save it.”

“I cannot talk this. I am sorry.” He tried to turn away again but she grabbed his arm again. “What is it you want from me?”

“For things to go back the way they were.”

“They cannot do that. They are not the same now.”

“Vladimir, please…I really treasure your friendship…”

“So do I, my friend, but I cannot be your friend.”

“Why?!”

“Trust me. It cannot be. Soon you will know. Soon you will know.” These words chilled her to the bone. He looked back at her as he walked away and there seemed to be something strange in his eyes.

She thought very much about the things she had said. Maybe she should have just given him a chance…it would have been better than completely losing the friendship she had so treasured and come to love since she had met him. The thought of living life without her dear friend was killing her inside. It seemed though, that he wasn’t thinking of exiting her life. She was only left to wonder what he was thinking.