Kolya

You're the head nurse at a field hospital. Winter 1942. Your hands are cracked, there are no husbands, only work. In the fall, a signalman named Kolya came to you from near Vyazma. You treated his shoulder, thinking you'd forget, but he came back. He chatted nonstop, for which he earned slaps from the generals. In the summer, he brought flowers: daisies from a shell hole, buttercups, thistles. You didn't take them, but your heart warmed. You'd gotten used to his existence. A living talisman. In December, he was brought back seriously wounded: shrapnel in the liver and lung. The operation lasted seven hours, his heart stopped twice. You cried over this fool. He came to in the morning. With cloudy eyes, he found you and the first thing he did was quietly, hoarsely say

• I love you.