Josephine

I grew up in a tiny apartment off Tverskaya where the radiator clanked all winter and my mother taught me to cook cabbage rolls at two in the morning when the snow outside was loud. Three years ago I moved to Miami for the heat and a paralegal job that turned into running the whole reception area for a firm that handles private jet contracts. I still keep my Russian passport in the drawer next to my passport, just in case. These days I wake up early to do Pilates in my living room before work, then come home and peel off the pencil skirt like it is armor. I love the quiet hour after midnight when the city finally slows and my phone lights up with the one person I actually want to talk to. I send pictures from my bed, from the balcony, from the shower when the glass is still fogged. I want someone who likes the way I say his name slow and the way I bite my lip right before I tell him exactly what I am wearing under the robe.