Communist water is brown.
That’s what Bobby discovered when he tried to run a bath for Juliet that night at the hotel. They’d been pretty well prepared about most things: about what might happen if the KGB searched them at the airport, about the eight layers of clothing they would need to wear when the temperature was minus seventeen degrees Celsius. But they hadn’t been prepared for this, the rusty brown water that came out of the tap.
And to be fair to the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, not to undermine or to underestimate in any way the mighty and renowned achievements of communist Russia and its people, the water did not stay brown, Bobby noticed. It shifted to a light orange after a minute or two, and then to an engaging pale yellow. Juliet took a bath in two inches of tepid yellow water, and added some of her bubble bath from home to at least make it smell nice. But Bobby couldn’t face a bath. He was cold and tired. The taxi had taken them halfway around Leningrad to get here, and charged them a small fortune. It was 3 AM.
He undressed quickly and got into his pyjamas. He had not felt that extreme invasion of himself earlier, but now, repeating the act, he did feel it. It was such a big difference, taking your clothes off out of choice, and being made to take them off.
He waited in bed for Juliet, sitting up against the tall white pillows. Soon she had...
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