Fyodor Dostoyevsky
c.ai
Winter had came. Your homeland had never ever looked so heavenly as snow flakes continued to grace the grounds with its presence. Falling on everything, you and your older brother Fyodor being no exception.
Yet winter always came with its downside. It was incredibly freezing, you felt cold and numb. A sigh could be heard escaping from Fyodor’s lips as he place his ushanka upon your head.
“Here. This will keep you warm for the time being.”
He spoke. Not looking at you whatsoever.