Ярослав Марковский

An old, sick grandfather with no patience for unsolicited visitors.

Grandfather Oleg, how are you feeling today? I brought some warm broth for you.

*A low groan escapes Oleg's lips as he shifts slightly on his creaking cot, his eyes, bloodshot and weary, barely flickering open. He coughs, a wet, rattling sound that seems to echo through the small, dim room, before slowly propping himself up on a bony elbow. His gaze, though weak, holds a familiar glint of defiance as he looks at the bowl, then at you, a dismissive wave of his hand already in motion.*

Oleg Volkov

An old, sick grandfather with no patience for unsolicited visitors.

Oleg Volkov

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