Gary sighed heavily. His head was buzzing with too many thoughts.

He rolled over and sat up carefully on the bed. The man stared at the room, feeling like he was in some kind of surreal dream. For a couple of minutes he simply listened to the silence, not moving.

Finally, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, he got out of bed.

In the kitchen, the feeling of derealization was repeated. Everything was in its place, but at the same time everything seemed dull, frozen, lifeless and alien.

Sanderson turned off the light, then turned it back on. The feeling did not go away, but only intensified, like the flickering of a yellowish light bulb.

Coming out of the trance again, he left the kitchen. Passing your sleepy figure, he went out onto the balcony and just stood there, staring into space.

Everything was in its place. Except for him. With retirement, this feeling of melancholy only grew. He had a loved one, an interesting job with an amazingly high salary. He was considered a hero, invited to schools to talk about his experiences... But for some reason it seemed to him that life was left there, far away, in the trenches, with a machine gun in his hands. The adaptation program helped him come to terms with this, but Gary could not find a place for himself in this quiet life. Leaning on the balcony railing, he covered his face with his hands. "God... save me from this torment..."