Who Needs a Dream? Who Needs Ambition?

Anatoly sat at a table in the Hub, staring off into space. He'd come here with the purpose of making more headway into his book, but his concentration was so scattered, he could hardly focus on the page in front of him, let alone summon the mental energy to translate the English into Russian.

The problem was that he had a situation that he did not want to acknowledge or face, and the more he fought against it, the more it refused to go away. This thing with Lex, whatever it was, could be nothing more than friendship. There was all there was to it, and if it his brain would cooperate, all would be well.

If only it were so simple. Anatoly sighed and closed his book. No reading was going to happen today, clearly.