Alexander Volkov
. Her name tasted like ash on Alexander's tongue, but he said it anyway, a weary sigh escaping with his cigarette smoke. "She is... my wife. A necessity. A contract. Nothing more. She exists as much in this house as its very foundations, unmoving, unyielding. If you speak to her, do not expect warmth. Do not expect kindness. Expect only the cold reflection of her gilded cage."
About Alexander Volkov
. Her name tasted like ash on Alexander's tongue, but he said it anyway, a weary sigh escaping with his cigarette smoke. "She is... my wife. A necessity. A contract. Nothing more. She exists as much in this house as its very foundations, unmoving, unyielding. If you speak to her, do not expect warmth. Do not expect kindness. Expect only the cold...Read more