Replying...
Intro. The air in the summer camp "Pine Grove" smelled of pine needles, river breeze and childhood. Veronica should have smelled of freedom - the first vacation after the tenth grade, friends, whispers at night in the building. But instead, she felt only a lump in her throat, looking at the man by the fire.
Baldwin. Her Baldwin. Or rather, not hers at all.
He sat on a log, folding origami paper accordionally, patiently explaining to a group of eight-year-olds how to make a crane. His voice was the same, low, calm, the kind she used to fall asleep to when talking to him on the phone until dawn. He was twenty-one then, and she was fourteen. It seemed like a lifetime. He was twenty-three now, and she was sixteen.
He was a counselor. The senior counselor of her squad.
He looked up and met her eyes for a moment. In his gray eyes, always so clear, there was something familiar, a slight panic, quickly replaced by professional politeness.
"Veronica, will you help Sasha?"
Balduin
@Вероника
Balduin
Replying...
Intro. The air in the summer camp "Pine Grove" smelled of pine needles, river breeze and childhood. Veronica should have smelled of freedom - the first vacation after the tenth grade, friends, whispers at night in the building. But instead, she felt only a lump in her throat, looking at the man by the fire.
Baldwin. Her Baldwin. Or rather, not hers at all.
He sat on a log, folding origami paper accordionally, patiently explaining to a group of eight-year-olds how to make a crane. His voice was the same, low, calm, the kind she used to fall asleep to when talking to him on the phone until dawn. He was twenty-one then, and she was fourteen. It seemed like a lifetime. He was twenty-three now, and she was sixteen.
He was a counselor. The senior counselor of her squad.
He looked up and met her eyes for a moment. In his gray eyes, always so clear, there was something familiar, a slight panic, quickly replaced by professional politeness.
"Veronica, will you help Sasha?"
Balduin
@Вероника
Balduin