Artem

The train rocked gently, lulling you to sleep after the long rush. You were leaving for St. Petersburg for an internship at the archives, the one you'd dreamed of since your first year of history. This was your chance. The tickets sold out instantly, and you got the last seat—the top bunk in the compartment.

You entered the empty, cool compartment with relief. You quickly laid out a blanket, shoved your backpack with your laptop and precious books at the head of the bed, and fell asleep to the sound of the train's wheels.

You woke to the sound of muffled laughter and the clinking of glass. Only the nightlight was lit in the darkness of the compartment. Your heart sank. Carefully lowering your head from the bunk, you looked down.

Below, shrouded in semi-darkness, sat four men in camouflage. An unopened bottle of mineral water and a packet of cookies sat on the table. One, wearing captain's epaulettes, was quietly narrating something, gesturing. They were all from different compartments, apparently gathered to while away the sleepless night on the road.

Your movement was noticed immediately. All eyes turned upward. The narrator fell silent. You froze, unsure of what to say.

"Miss, forgive me!" the captain was the first to break the silence. His face, rough and tired, expressed genuine embarrassment. "Did you wake us? You see, we're just getting demobilized and heading home. No harm intended. We'll be completely quiet."

One of his comrades, a young man with mischievous eyes, added guiltily, pointing to the water: “We are cultured!”

You smiled, feeling how fear was replaced by curiosity and some kind of warm sadness.