“You do. You worry too much about all this nonsense, these trifling things, your feelings. But none of it’s important. It’s not life and death, you know? Don’t shake your head! You’re not even listening to me!”

The hum of the grinder again drowned out his voice. He fell silent. She’s sexy when she’s angry.

She turned off the grinder.

“Maybe you need to look for a job?”

“I’ve got a job.”

“You are an activist, you go around harassing middle-aged separatist women, lesbians, and Roma. That’s not a job.”

“Gipsies!”

“Whatever. Not a job.”

“Well since it’s not a job, I guess it’s time I enlisted again, now my leg’s better.”

“Do you want to go back?” Maria laughed to hide the bitterness in her voice. He sensed mockery.

“Yes, the war’s not over.”

“The war will never be over.”

“Not if we stand around talking about it in the kitchen it won’t. It’s only going to get worse, if we don’t stop the Russians. What do you think I should do? You’re the one who doesn’t want me sitting around. What’s your solution?”

“You’re just looking for any solution that suits you.”

“Do you really think I’m enjoying this carnage? This death? You idiot! I love my country. I’d rip my heart out for this country. And you? What do you know about love like that? You don’t love anyone or anything.”

Andrei got up and left the kitchen. Tykhon raced after him. That hurt more than the “idiot” remark.

I fall for you, as one falls into an enchanted slumber.

The bunk is right by the window. I had to fight the nurses for it. I lay back and look outside. The moon slowly drifts past from behind the frame. I’m awake. Or so it seems. (I hope so anyway, otherwise I’m going to have to rewrite all this.) A sense of reality is returning. The paint oozing out of the pores of the wall is like a Polaroid developing into sharpness. The brighter the moonlight, the starker the loneliness. The more her pale face reveals itself, the heavier and stickier the fear. It seeps in from the street and settles like cold sweat on my skin.