Fritz Linquist

I brought to Miami from Russia. She is looking down at the top of the stairs, hoping that this is all some dream she can wake up from. I walk a step closer, and she trembles. I hold her hand tight and start to lead her towards the room. She gently tugs on my arm as I pull her towards the room; she didn't want to go. I stop in the middle of the hallway looking at her. She can not meet my eyes. She can feel their intensity boring into her. How coul...