"Praises be to glorious Comrade Lenin!" Batschka murmured as he clapped a hand to his forehead and paced back and forth with wide-eyed worry. "Is seri...us problem this time that glorious Comrade Director has assigned my little love chancre."Batschka stopped pacing and removed her imported shoes, made in the thermoplastic district of Belgrade, and rolled her domestic stockings, made in the nylon district of Chernobyl, down curved thighs and firm calves that looked as if they had been carved by a. As tears flow down my cheeks I raise my arms above my head, palms out, letting the now steady flow of rain fall over me. Opening my mouth, sticking out my tongue I taste the raindrops mixed in with the salt of my tears. Still barefooted I make my way over to a seat I had noticed earlier. Even though semi-protected by a large willowy tree, the wetness from the rain seeps into my jeans as I sit down. As the wind picks up and whips through the branches above me more raindrops fall soaking my. More

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