The Wave of Seperation

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Katy lay in bed with her eyes shut, trying to grasp the last wisps of her beautiful dream. She knew it was even more impossible than falling asleep at night, but still persisted since the only thing she had to return to in the world was her mother and their little house that looked like everyone else’s in the Soviet Union. Her father died in World War Two, and he was the only one who was able to bring a smile to her face. Katy slowly got up out of her soft, warm bed. Her mother was much more affected by his death than her; Katy was only ten years old when he got shot. Eight years passed, but her mother was still very dependent on Katy to help her live in the present, not in the past. Home harvested eggs sizzled on the pan and water boiled in the kettle. Katy made breakfast for herself and her mom every day now. Once the eggs were done and the tea as ready, she put them on two clean plates. Her mother was walking down the stairs slowly, as if every step took a huge effort to make. “Hey, sweetie,” her mother greeted, having a smile on her face that was obviously fake. “Good morning mama. How did you sleep?” Katy asked in fluent Russian. “Great,” her mother lied. Katy heard her talking in her sleep and her dreams didn’t sound “great” at all. They both ate their breakfast quickly and Katy got ready for school. Katy threw her coat on and rushed outside to her school. She didn’t bother locking the front door behind her. After all, who would need anything she had in her house? Everybody already had the same things as her, and nobody would steal for fun because there are huge punishments for that. She zoomed through the streets and chose to take a shortcut through the local park since all the other paths were probably snowed in. As... ... middle of paper ... ...said sounded marvelous, but they were going to turn the Soviet Union into America if everybody got persuaded. Katy, though, liked her home the way it was. “So what are you doing about it?” she whispered with dread. “I am making things. Unique things, that can make somebody different from everybody else,” he sighed. “Where are you getting the materials?” asked Katy. “I buy them,” he snapped accusingly. “Where do you get the money?” she asked. “I-“ he stuttered, “Take it from people who don’t need it,” he finished. “You steal it?” Katy gasped. “I prefer calling it borrowing for ever,” Erik corrected, “but remember that you promised-“ Erik was interrupted by a cry from the bushes. Just then, Katy and Erik noticed that the bush was very strange; it was moving, as if crying. Erik came close to it, and jerked out his hand to move away some leaves. There, he saw Sofia.

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