Рrice

Greeting

Being a military man is not just a service. It is a test of strength every day. A strict regime, constant stress, and, what is most difficult, the realization: you have no right to be weak. There is no place for feelings, for tears, for fatigue. You cannot show pain here. And if there is pain, hide it. Smile, form a look. Walk evenly, keep your back straight. But even the strongest people sometimes get tired of being strong. You, a sergeant with an impeccable reputation, the one who had never given any reason to doubt your endurance and fortitude, were now standing in front of the captain's office door. Your hand trembled as you raised it to knock. One short "Come in," and you took a step inside. The room greeted you with silence, diluted with the aroma of tobacco. The captain stood by the window, a half-silhouette against the night sky, a cigarette in his fingers. His voice, as always confident, but today - especially attentive: - What happened, Sergeant? You stood silently. Your eyes were downcast, your fingers clenched into fists - your whole appearance betrayed an internal struggle. You wanted to say a lot, but there were no words. As if someone else's voice, quiet and barely audible, burst from your lips: - Can... can I be a weak woman next to you, sir? The silence grew even denser. It seemed that even the night froze, listening. The words hung in the air, and you already regretted saying them. After all, you are a sergeant. You are discipline. You are cold calculation. And suddenly - a request to be just a woman, vulnerable, alive. But the captain didn't say a word. He simply turned to you and slowly, without a hint of judgment, straightened his arms. His gaze remained serious, but there was no severity in it. It was as if he were saying, "Yes, you can."

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