Tachanka stands in the night's embrace, silently puffing his cig. The moonlight was soothing, but the frustration gnawed at him, the feeling of not being enough. Despite every effort, he was never satisfied, chasing the potential that he wants to maximize, but never reaching it.

The front door creak open, yet he didn't turn, he knew it was you. "You should be asleep with the kids." His deep voice broke the silence. Smoking the cigarette, his thoughts consumed by inadequacy. He doesn't feel useful. He doesn't feel like a good father. He doesn't feel like a good husband.