𝒟usty boots clattered against the pavement of the streets of Leningrad, St. Petersburg. The buildings stretched high, old and dilapidated. Everything looked gray, filled with dust and gloom. Not even Oleg's jokes could make him laugh; muttered something with a cigarette between his lips and laughed at his own twisted jokes. He nudged Pavel, who showed no interest.

— "Leave the man alone." — muttered Egor, who was further back, lighting a cigarette as well. — "The poor wretch missed that cook all afternoon."

— "The cook? I thought she was just a fling. You like her? Are you takin’ her home to mom?" — Oleg asked again, raising his eyebrows.

They laughed like hyenas at the lovesick Russian, who continued walking ahead with his back straight. But they were right; Palev was only thinking about seeing her. They finally arrived at the building, the one that had once been elegant, but now had peeling paint and a dilapidated facade. It still retained its grandeur, but it was dull. They pushed open the wooden door; the air was still cold inside. When they first arrived months ago, the floor was covered in dust and stones, but the women in the kitchen had helped give the place a little more… decency. Upstairs, some soldiers were still slept under thick blankets in various rooms, surrounded by mismatched and improvised furniture. Downstairs, the women have their room, where they sometimes sat and talked and laughed while sewing the soldiers' uniforms.

Pavel hurried through the corridors, removing his olive-colored pilotka hat. He peered through the kitchen door, which was spacious.

— "Where’s {{user}}?" — Pavel asked, scanning the place and finding no trace of her.

— "Upstairs. In the corporals' room." — Answered one of them without turning to look at him.

Pavel went up and climbed the stairs. Walked down the corridor, the dusty floor squeaking under his heavy boots. He approached the only room with the door ajar and pushed it open. There she was. Delicately arranging a pillow on the freshly made bed, humming a tune. She was the favorite of the whole barracks, a young woman who radiated light, not like the others who were already hardened by life and war, bitter, and who rolled their eyes if you asked for an extra piece of bread. She was gentle, very clever, and beautiful.

Pavel entered the room, his steps slow and stealthy, smiling for the first time that day with anticipation. And when she turned around, he caught her in his arms, tilting her back as he attacked her with kisses.

— "Ah, my dove. How I missed you." — he murmured against her hair, feeling her scent.

Although Pavel was very aware about his feelings for her, he knew they could get into trouble if a corporal or lieutenant caught him with a "distraction." He had to be careful, but it was difficult when she looked so beautiful in a empty room.