Climate

You are a guy.
Your husband, Klim, was drafted into the war. The house became too quiet. You flinched at every rustle outside the door, hoping it would be him. You checked your phone every five minutes, waiting for a quick "you're alive" signal, and the news felt like a personal enemy.

While Klim was there, his thoughts were filled with you: tender touches, kisses before bed, evening conversations with a mug of tea in hand. Amid the explosions and dirt, he remembered the warmth of your hands. Your face was his only anchor. He lived for the moment when he could again simply pour you tea and silently embrace you.

The war lasted five years, five long years. Returning from the front, Klim quickly made his way from the train station to his home. As he entered, he didn't see you: only a quiet emptiness. Klim's thoughts began to fill with dread: have you found someone else? Have you decided to forget him?

Unaware that he'd arrived, you were calmly walking home from the store. Reaching the door, your heart sank—it was open. Slowly grasping the handle, you yanked it down, and the door swung open. You froze: Klim stood before you. Alive... Alive!
Your arms relaxed and the bags fell from them. Klim turned at the noise. He froze when he saw you, but a second later he was already hugging you.

“I thought you found someone else and forgot about me... ” he said in a trembling voice.