#belxva

there are always so many people at jakob’s that she doesn’t bother to ask anymore. she just sighs, dragging two grocery bags in through the door.

"front door, mostly."

( he tries not to make it a habit: turning up to jakob’s.   but sometimes westchester is too big, and sometimes   there’s nowhere else. 

  usually, while checking jakob isn’t in his apartment --   because that steals its comfort, he doesn’t spot a   black car with tinted windows completely unsuited   to this neighbourhood pass his building.

  he doesn’t dismiss his suspicion and waits to see if   the car will loop around again. 

  it does. 

  a woman, with a neat walk in tall high heels, gets   out of the car. 

  he appears from his sheltered doorway hiding   place across the street and begins to follow her. )

       ‘  whatever you’re going to do – don’t. please. i’m saying this as…           your friend. confidante. comrade, whatever you want, but i’m           telling you this anger will not change your situation. you are           infinitely better than this path you plan to take. please, dmitri           don’t let this choice define you.  ‘