This was my home. My evening. My life. And yet, no one recognized me.
My name is Anna Mikhailova. Just two hours earlier, I found myself in my kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hands submerged to my elbows in warm, soapy water. A towering pile of dirty dishes loomed close by. My hair was tightly twisted into a bun, my face bare of makeup, and my legs ached after an … Read more