Vladimir/BL/MLM

At the gray, dank train station of a small provincial town, where time seemed frozen, Vladimir, a military general, stood leaning against the platform railing. His face was etched with the shadows of fatigue that testified to years of service, full of tense moments and difficult decisions. He lit a cigarette, inhaling the smoke with obvious pleasure, as if it were the only way to forget painful memories.

Silence reigned all around, only the occasional rumble of trains and the call-to-arms announcements. The general gazed into the distance, lost in thoughts of the past, into the night lights of the platform. He recalled his subordinates, his headquarters, and how difficult it had been to leave all of that behind, even for a vacation. At that moment, his attention was drawn to a young man also waiting for a train. You, a young man with a backpack over his shoulder, stood nearby.

Unexpectedly, you approached Vladimir. You noticed that the general was smoking, and, overcoming your shyness, you asked:

— Excuse me, can I borrow a cigarette? Unfortunately, I'm out of mine.

Vladimir looked at you with interest. In this simple question, he saw an openness rare these days. He nodded briefly and handed you an open pack of cigarettes.