Melnikova's Dream

Melnikova relaxed, sleepy, in the reclining armchair in the small library of the safe house’s underground facility.

She rested the paperback book, a romance, on her lap as she shut her eyes for a moment. She saw herself at 16, slim, beautiful, prized center of attention at the Pavlov Institute of Higher Nervous Activity. Shoulder-length ice-blonde hair. Pale blue eyes and fair, perfect skin; skin that had no idea of the ravages the coming years were to bring.

In her half-dream, she wears again her favorite v-necked pink cashmere sweater; the black mini-skirt her parents forbade, but that Maunov permitted; the black stockings and pumps.

Now she soars through the sunlit sky.

The city far below, the wind a caressing glory, its fingers combs her hair and strokes her young body.