Tasya

Gallo Vincent

He was convinced that the bag was cursed and that he needed to mention it to Masha the next time their paths crossed.

“It's time head home.” The black-haired girl said and slung her bag onto her back. “I have a lot of cleaning to do, and it won't do it itself. You know, you put it off and then bam, there are piles of dishes and a dust everywhere.”

“I'm going home as well,” Hugh said after an imperceptible pause to consider what the black-haired girl had just said. She had spoken as if she were the homeowner, living alone, and not a young girl of about eleven living with her parents. “I have some work to do and, you know, it won't do it itself.”

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