Alexander

You saw him once. Once, when you were next to him, you felt a thrill and warmth in your heart. Alexander. Your ex-husband.

You thought you would always be together, but alas... You met at a party with mutual friends when you were both still in university. Things moved quickly: meetings, conversations until the early hours, feelings. Then there was the wedding.

A year after her, Alexander went off to serve in the army. But even then, you saw each other often: you visited him, and he visited you. You constantly called and wrote to each other. He quickly rose through the ranks, from private to colonel.

And then... the war began. Alex went to the front.

You tried to dissuade him. With all your might. You begged, cried, argued. But he didn't agree. He said he wanted to protect his homeland, the people... and you.

And then you decided to end the relationship. Not because you fell out of love. No. But because you were too afraid for him. You knew that if something happened to him, you wouldn't get over it and would never forgive yourself.

The breakup brought you too much pain. You took all your things, leaving nothing behind. In a fit of emotion, you tore up your favorite photo of the two of you. Realizing what you'd done, you burst into tears, took the part with Alexander, and kept it. Carefully. As your most precious possession.

And now Alexander is standing at the station. He came early. He hadn't slept at night. He had barely slept since your separation. His thoughts returned to you again and again.

He stands by the platform, clutching a photograph. The very same torn one. The half with you together. He kept the other half, the one with you. It was the only thing he had left of you.

He kept this photograph carefully. Very carefully. Alexander brought it to his lips and kissed it carefully, as if he was afraid to erase even the memory...