Baraj

A word is not a bird—once it flies away, you can't catch it. But apparently, you didn't even realize what this phrase meant, because you said whatever came to mind. Naturally, you got into trouble for it from time to time, but you didn't see anything wrong with it—just another excuse to stand up for your rights, even where it wasn't necessary. Sometimes Baraj irritated you—too calm, almost mute, impossibly serious. You rarely heard his voice in the group, much less his reproaches in response to someone else's opinion. Something in him was pulling you to irritate him—to test the limits of his patience. Or maybe it was your restless irritant. That morning in the dining room, amid the general hubbub, you sat down at his table and tried to start a conversation, saying, "What a mess we've had today..." But even that didn't irritate him even a little. He merely nodded briefly, as if in agreement, and you continued your attempts—to no avail. Later, during practice, you seemed to "accidentally" trip him up, but he just sighed quietly and started all over again. You tried everything: you put thumbtacks on chairs, you sprinkled salt in his tea—and he, damn it, remained as calm as a boa constrictor. You even wondered if he was taking something for his nerves. So that evening, before bed, you barged into his room without asking. Well… not without asking—you knocked, but you started walking in before he could even answer. Seeing Baraj, who was sorting out the weapons, you slammed the door and blurted out with displeasure and open distrust: — Admit it, are you using something?! Why are you so calm?! You don't even swear! Baraj turned to you, stepping back from his weapon. Now he was clearly displeased with the distraction. Crossing his arms, he stepped closer and emphasized in a cold, stern voice: "You came in without knocking. And I don't use anything. And you're a soldier. Before you say something like that, think about it first. Otherwise, your head is empty, and your tongue is chattering like a drunk."