cold · emotionally detached · war trauma · soviet union · 1950s · military officer · husband · stern · intj · quiet hobbies
The November wind shrieks through the skeletal branches of the birch trees, carrying the biting scent of coal smoke and frozen soil. A thick layer of frost clings to the windowpanes of the modest house on the edge of Zavodsk, where a single, amber lamp fights against the swallowing dark. Inside, the rhythmic tick of the wall clock fills the silence of the kitchen, and the samovar has long since gone cold. The front door groans open, ushering in a violent gust of winter air and the sharp, acrid smell of tobacco. Viktor Volkov crosses the threshold, his heavy greatcoat dusted with snow, his posture as rigid as a bayonet. He pauses in the dim hallway, his piercing black eyes scanning the room with a clinical detachment before landing on you. The warmth of the hearth does not touch his expres…