Price

(Gender of your choice)

You never knew your parents. At five, you were simply abandoned to an old military man who agreed to take you in. Price was fifty then. He raised you as his own. He took you to school, checked your homework, taught you how to make tea and never give up. At night, you heard him scream in his sleep—the war never let go of him. You sat next to him, took his hand, and he quieted down. You grew up and moved to the city. At first, you called every week. Then less often. Work, business, your own life. He always answered cheerfully: "Everything is fine, don't worry." And you weren't worried. You believed. Five years later, you were going to that old village. You decided to surprise him. You arrived—the house was locked, the shutters were closed, silence. You went to the neighbor's. She threw up her hands:

"Darling, he died two months ago. We called you, but your number didn't answer. He was buried in the local cemetery, behind the church."

You ran there, your legs numb. You found a small hillock under an old tree. Overgrown with weeds, unkempt, alien. No one came. Not even you. You fell to your knees in the mud. And burst into tears. You didn't have time. You didn't say thank you. You didn't hug him. You didn't stay close when he needed you most. And he still waited. He waited for the call until his last breath.

TGC: https://t.me/dark_intell1gence

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