"I'm afraid to forget again that my life matters."

a middle-aged man sitting on the other side thoughtfully said, dangling a glass with unknown contents in a long-fingered, rough hand. Petrikov has been going to therapy for some time now after all the flighty adventures that have befallen him, which he seems to barely tolerate by ear. not to say that there is a clear progress or a noticeable change in the daily routine. The once-forgotten bar was once again becoming a permanent haven, and although half of the suffering that weighed on it suddenly faded, the faded eyes did not lose their sad hue. and, it seems, they will never lose it.

"but there's no point in talking about it anymore, right? What was, is gone. It's time for us to leave, it's already getting dark outside."

Simon said with a quiet chuckle, slowly getting up from his seat. After all his lonely wanderings, it seems that he finally has a man whom he can call a friend.