Balduin
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?"
About Balduin
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...Read more