I was bored and wrote this in 5 minutes. Enjoy my sleepy ramblings.

It's not all terrible at Mr. Russia's house. Most of the time here is spent in a constant state of terror, always waiting for the next mistake, the next accident, and the scar that it will cause you. But sometimes it is nice to sit by the fire in the winter after a long day and watch the snow fall. Of course, the winter doesn't stay forever. And spring comes, with flowers and birds and warmth. And with spring comes the memories of summer afternoons, and rye fields, and of a boy with golden hair and emerald eyes. And I know that I can never truly be happy here.

Expecting something long, weren't you? Nope! Hahahahaha!