Out of concern for my beloved companion, who had been sleeping on the lower bunk, I peered down below me to see what was going on. Two men sat on the bunk opposite her, one wielding a bottle of vodka and a glass in a cheap-looking, decorative steel holder. Laura had politely accepted a drink and she and the man with the glass and bottle clinked glasses and saluted one another. “Cheers!” he said to her, in a deep, husky voice, clearly ravaged by countless cigarettes, and he proceeded to teach her the Russian equivalent, “nastrovya!” A few minutes later, I got up and he introduced himself as Alexis, Alex for short. He had poor, blotchy skin, and his cheeks were sunken. His hair was cut short, and his hairline receded half way across his
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