ll the vodka wouldn’t t in the ridge. First I triedstanding the bottles up, and then I laid them ontheir sides, one on top o the other. Te bottlesstacked up like transparent sh. Ten they hunkereddown and stopped clinking. But ten or so just wouldn’t t.I should have told my mother to take this rerigera-tor back a long time ago. It’s an aront to me and thelittle boy next door. Every night this monster cuts in ullblast, and he cries on the other side o the wall. And my vodka is never all going to go in. It’s too damn small.Fucking pig.So I had to put it on the shel. And the windowsill.And the oor. Same old same old. One I put in the bath-room, the dirty clothes hamper. I thought, Why the hellnot? Just in case.When I was done with the vodka more or less, some-one started ringing at my door. At rst I didn’t want toopen up because it was late, but then I did anyway. It hadto be Olga. Not even my mother had stopped by in hal a year. We communicated by phone.
ext copyright © 2011 by Andrei Gelasimov Published by agreement with Galina Dursto Literary Agency, KoelnEnglish translation copyright © 2011 by Marian SchwartzAll rights reserved.Printed in the United States o AmericaNo part o this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system,or transmitted in any orm or by any means, electronic, mechanical,photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permissiono the publisher.
by Andrei Gelasimov was rst published in 2003 by EksmoPublishers in Moscow as Zhazhda.ranslated rom the Russian by Marian Schwartz.First published in English in 2011 by AmazonCrossing.Published by AmazonCrossingP.O. Box 400818Las Vegas, NV 89140ISBN-13: 9781611090697ISBN-10: 1611090695