Chapter IV

He entered and closed the creaking front door behind him. He hung his jacket on the wooden coat rack and left his slightly worn shoes next to the doormat. The vestibule was almost empty. A shade of gray dominated – the walls were unpainted, and there were no floor panels. In one corner, where no light reached, dark mold spread, and its pungent smell reminded him of its presence. Ferrick headed toward his bedroom, which also served as the living room and kitchen. His apartment consisted of only three small rooms.

Ferrick approached his modest fridge, cleverly hidden under a wooden table. He opened it, releasing a cold draft and looked inside, noticing that it was almost empty. There were only a few slices of bread, expired sausage, and in the bottom drawer – a half-drunk bottle of vodka. He remembered that he had planned to go shopping right after his doctor's visit, but it had somehow slipped his mind. Today, he felt distracted, his mind full of disorganized thoughts that wouldn't let him rest.

Out of boredom, he took a slice of bread, sat on the brown, slightly worn sofa, and began nibbling on it. He glanced at the couch. Although it was generally in good condition, it had several irritating holes that Ferrick still noticed every time he sat on it. Despite planning to replace the sofa with his next paycheck, he didn't care for anything luxurious. He only wanted to get rid of these annoying defects. They gave him discomfort that he could no longer tolerate.

While eating his snack, Ferrick looked around his living room. It wasn't anything special. It resembled a hallway, with the difference being that at least it had floor panels. Although they were clearly dirty and a bit worn, they were still there. There were no windows, for obvious reasons, and on the empty walls hung a frame with no picture inside. Ferrick had bought it once from his elderly neighbor, Mrs. Yuna, who had died a year earlier from tuberculosis. Despite the passage of time, he still didn't know what should go in it. In fact, he didn't remember ever thinking about it.

In addition to the sofa and table, there was also a green carpet in the middle of the room and a lamp in the corner, which was the only source of light in the whole apartment. Still, Ferrick could pride himself on the fact that his lightbulb shone unusually brightly compared to the other residents of the city. It was the only thing that gave him a sense that, at least in this one thing, his space was different from the others.

After finishing his meal, Ferrick straightened his back, coughed slightly, and headed toward the bathroom. When he opened the door, a small bathtub appeared, in which he barely fit, and a toilet that, although noisy when flushing, worked perfectly fine. Next to it was a sink with a mirror above it. The water flowed without issue, though sometimes, instead of hot water, cold came out. Ferrick had gotten used to it – such little inconveniences had become part of his daily life. Above the door, just like in other places in the apartment, mold was spreading, although it was much less extensive than in the hallway. It was one of those minor neglects that, while still present in his space, didn't have much impact on his life. As if it had all become the background in which he lived, without demanding any change.

He approached the mirror, turned on the faucet, and washed his face. This time, he got it right – the water was warm. He cleaned off the sweat and wiped the drops of water that ran down his skin. When he finished, he looked at his reflection in the dusty mirror. He saw a middle-aged man with short, dark hair and numerous wrinkles on his face. Under his green eyes were large bags, a result of constant fatigue. On his nose, still visible, was a small scar – a memento from his father. When Ferrick was still a child, his father had broken a vodka bottle across his face. Over the years, the scar had become almost invisible, so he no longer paid attention to it. His ears, however, were quite pointy, which he considered the worst feature of his face. He felt that they always attracted unnecessary attention, and their shape had irritated him since he was young.

Ferrick extended his hand and placed it on the surface of the mirror. His reflection did the same, creating the illusion that it was a completely different person. He knew, however, that it was him, that he was looking at himself. He was like an empty shell – an outer layer that once hid something alive. This wasn't the same man he had been a few years ago. Not after Elena's death. Not after what he had said to her when she was dying in his arms.

Returning to the living room, Ferrick pulled a brown woolen blanket from under the sofa, took off his clothes, and lay down in his underwear to sleep. Before doing so, however, he turned on the radio and turned off the light. He was afraid that if he kept using the lightbulb too much, it would eventually stop working. Then he would have to buy a new one, and that meant unnecessary expenses. He needed to be frugal. As for the radio, he liked to listen to the hourly news. He didn't learn anything particularly interesting from them, but nonetheless, he felt a bit more in the know about what was happening in the world. Closing his eyes, he suddenly heard a voice.

- The time is now 12:00. Today is Monday, April 21st, 2098. The air pollution level is moderate. The latest update confirms that Zalvistan's attack has failed. It was stopped by Caldoria's forces in record time. The TDP celebrates the victory and announces the imminent end of the war. It claims that nothing can defeat our empire. Glory and honor to Caldoria!

Ferrick smiled faintly, approached the radio, and turned it off. He returned to his bed, closed his eyes, and began to think about what he had just heard. He knew the TDP would stop the enemy's attack, but he hadn't expected it to happen so quickly. He was stunned that everything had unfolded so fast. Although he wasn't a great optimist, for some reason, he felt happy that something had finally surprised him today. He closed his eyes more tightly, letting his thoughts slowly drift away.