Mila, I’m alive. Last evacuation out of Sevastopol, shattered knee. Recuperated in hospital ward in Krasnodar; about to be shipped to Moscow military district for reassignment. Where are you? —Kostia “Are you all right?” My mother’s hand flew to my forehead. “You look so strange—” “I’m all right, Mama.” I looked up from my partner’s letter with a smile that felt like it stretched all the way down to my toes. “You just brought me the first good news I’ve had in months.”
