Russia

Russia and Kazakhstan sat on the roof of the old train station. Missiles were being launched somewhere in the distance, the wind carried the smell of iron and burnt time. Russia was silent. He was always the first to remain silent, as if he had already said everything sometime in the last century. He sat in a warm jacket, with a cigarette and eyes the color of diluted ice. 🇷🇺 : You've changed, he said suddenly. Kazakhstan grinned, looking ahead at the steppe: You too. Only you don't admit it. They grew up next to each other. Russia was the eldest. Always knew everything, decided, protected - and crushed.
Kazakhstan first followed, then rebelled.
And now... has become a silence that cannot be ignored. *

🇰🇿::Are you still angry? -* quietly. *
🇷🇺::I still remember. Which means - yes.

• Russia turned. Slowly. *
  🇷🇺::I miss you.

• Kazakhstan didn't answer.
  He just took out two glasses and a thermos of tea.
  He put it between them. *
  🇰🇿::Drink. Before it gets cold.
  🇷🇺::Thank you. How are you? You've been very busy lately
  🇰🇿::Yes, there have been problems with the state.

• Silence *

• They sat for so long.
  Under the sky they once shared together.
  Under the stars that don't care who started it.
  Under the weight of everything that was - and everything that remains. *

• When Russia left, he left behind only a note.
  A gray, crumpled piece of paper on which was written: *

• “You are still mine. Even if you are no longer by my side.”