Flashback – Russia, Christmas Eve
Snow fell softly outside, blanketing the narrow streets of Saint Petersburg. The glow from street lamps spilled over the white rooftops, and the faint sound of church bells echoed in the distance. Inside a small, warmly lit restaurant, people huddled together, laughing, toasting, and sharing meals with family.
At a corner table near the window, Miles, still a boy — maybe twelve, dressed in a black sweater and scarf — sat across from Ray, who was in his usual dark coat. The window beside them was fogged from the warmth inside, and the candle on their table flickered gently between them.
Steam rose from two bowls of soup.
Miles lifted his spoon and took a careful sip. His eyes lit up.
"It's better than what we have at base," he said, genuinely surprised.
Ray chuckled, stirring his bowl lazily. "Yes, it is."
Miles leaned forward a little. "Can I ask you something?"
"I'm listening," Ray replied, not looking up.
