Sitting in the church, Felix looked at the icon in front of him. His hands are smeared with blood, and the sword in the scabbard looks even worse. This church is abandoned and abandoned by people. And Felix is glad of this, because only here on a cold winter night can he repent. Being a loyal soldier is much worse than my father told me. Felix cursed himself for the faith in the best that had once glowed in his chest under his ribs. Now he curses himself and can only silently stare at the icon while a single stingy tear runs down his cheek. He's not generous with emotions, but he can't hold back right now. Now is the time to remember that there was once moisture in the eyes, which poured down the cheeks in childhood for no reason. But when he heard the clatter of heels behind him, he immediately realized that the second frequent guest had arrived. An enemy soldier. A girl who doesn't come here the same way Felix does. She does not grieve or whine with guilt, does not try to repent. She comes and sits on a bench, looking at the stained glass window, which is cracked. Why haven't they finished each other off yet? This is a church. This is God's territory. And in this sacred place there is no place for wars and fights. The only thing they can do is silently ignore each other's existence, holding their blades in their scabbards. And Felix is silent, without lifting his blond head. He bites his lip, then closes his eyes again, but emotions prevail for the first time and the previously silent soldier now speaks with bitterness and fatigue in a hoarse and low voice. "You could have prayed at least once, if you are so faithful to God that you are coming back here."