“Gaia had vowed never to punch her ever again--but hey, people broke promises all the time. TOM MOORE LONGED FOR A PIECE OF PAPER and a pen. But in Moscow even the most basic luxuries were sometimes impossible to find. The hotel could provide him with vodka, with bad coffee-- but on the day before Christmas, they were out of everything else. Even lightbulbs. His spartan room had a desk, but no desk lamp. And he needed light, too. The days were short at this time of year, and the sun hadn't risen.... The only light in the room came from a flickering lamp by his bed, which looked like it had been manufactured during World War II. It was too dim to read or write by. Next Year in Jerusalem He shook his head. Why did they have to assign him to Moscow? Why did they have to torture him? But the answer was simple enough. He knew the language. He knew the culture. He stretched out on the mattress. It reeked of mothballs. He closed his eyes and thought of Gaia. He was halfway around the world from her today ...MoreLessRead More Read Less
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