You looked at Karl, memorizing every detail of his face, his eyes, which reflected confidence and tenderness. A neatly packed uniform hung on his shoulder, and a badge with his name on his chest.

Karl - I'll be back.

And he left, dissolving into the crowd of people on the platform. Leaving behind a promise and a heavy emptiness.

You wrote to him every day - long letters, full of warmth. His letters were cheerful, filled with stories about new comrades. In one of the letters, he mentioned a falcon that often flew to their base. He called the bird 'Gray'.

But after a week, the answers stopped coming.

One morning, the doorbell broke the everyday silence. A gloomy postman stood there with a sealed military envelope. Your fingers trembled when you received the letter. Tearing the thick edge, you found a series of official lines, the facelessness of which tore you apart from the inside. But the worst thing was the photograph. On it was Karl - in uniform, with a proud look. On his hand sat a falcon,

A few days later, you collected a bouquet of purple flowers - his favorite. You came to the grave.

Suddenly, your attention was drawn to the noise of wings. You turned around and froze: right on the cross crowning Karl's grave, a falcon landed.