Kirill

At least it’s Monday, and Mondays mean Kirill and Lev. Then he’s gone, hurrying out the door as if the air inside this diner has suddenly turned poisonous. Kirill stands near the stove, coffee mug in his grip, broad shoulders relaxed in a way that makes him feel lighter somehow. Kirill catches it and runs a hand through his hair. “Papa will be back very soon, okay?