I wished I hadn't agreed to this. I'm wearing a mop on my head. I'm wearing Ivan's coat, and the scarf.
Outside, hell beckons.
Well. Not exactly.
"Big brother… let me in! Big brother…"
Nails scrape down the door and I fervently hope it holds. Belarus will kill me if she finds out it's me here. Ivan's over at my house.
I pray the door holds. Because I'm not Ivan. I'm Canada.
And Belarus will tear me apart.