–Long after Bukharin’s execution, the fox ran the Kremlin’s grounds. 

Your toys are given away, and you are left with nothing to do but think. You sit on your father’s lap. The birch leaves atop the banya are fragrant. Laughter, like nostalgia, spindles through harmless sunbeams. Fresh berries fall from fingertips and stain the day. The large meals at the long table! Your mother’s last cry. When do you notice that each summer one family doesn’t arrive? They become complete sets of paper dolls that wear the outfits of double agent, provocateur, enemy of the people. Everyone is exhausted, especially you with the scissors, up all night cutting out clothes for the dead.