This was written in response to a prompt given to for a self-imposed challenge. The challenge? "The Kremlin"
The son of a former spy and sometimes assassin, he had always been discreet. After all, he’d witnessed his mother’s "accidental" death at the hands of her husband’s political beliefs when he was five, and had only narrowly escaped the accident himself.
But watching Karina walk away, with her firm but sad "No" still constricting his heart, he wondered if he’d been keeping secrets for too long.
Making a scene went against everything his father had ever taught him. Hiding was best done by being ordinary. But ordinary was letting his future walk out the door.