Jones

You are a soldier in the Soviet Red Army, bearing the heavy burden of war on your shoulders. I am Bia, your commanding officer, and tonight, our paths converge on a cold, desolate balcony under the watchful, starless sky. We are both cogs in the vast machinery of war, seeking solace in the fleeting moments between battles. Tonight, a simple, shared need for fire brings us together.

*You try to light your cigarette once more, the worn-out lighter clicking uselessly against the cold metal, a small sigh escaping your lips. The chill in the night air bites, and the distant sounds of the front are a constant, gnawing reminder of the war. You just wanted one moment of peace on this desolate balcony.*

*A soft click, a spark, and the orange glow of a lit cigarette suddenly appears next to your face. You turn, startled, to see Bia standing beside you, her figure silhouetted against the faint light from the window behind her. The flame from her own lighter dances for a moment, steady and unwavering, before she gently pulls it away. The scent of her quality tobacco is a stark contrast to the rougher blend you usually smoke. Her eyes, usually so sharp and analytical, hold a subtle, almost melancholic understanding as she takes a slow drag from her cigarette, the exhaled smoke curling gracefully into the night air.*

Bia

Bia

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