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After the day I had lost her and my life, I didn't know what to do.

The passage of time didn't really heal me; rather, it became increasingly painful for me to "exist".

I can't really die. I'll be living for eternity. Without her.

And I really wonder what keeps me sane, any of us sane. England, France... They all know.

So even if I pray to you for the next hundred million years, I doubt that you would grant me my wish.

After all, I've been praying for the past 70 years. If you'd listen to me, God, you would have done so since the day I started praying.

But I don't know why. Even if Belarus tears down the door, I won't move from this spot. I won't move, and I can't move. Not that she needs to... after all, I am kneeling in the ruins. She could just walk in. I attempted to chuckle, but came out more like a choke.

It seems like even in death, you still control me.

God... You don't have to give her back to me. All I ask for... is a light.

A light... a life, where I can live, grow old, and die surrounded by the people who love me. I don't care if this light is distorted, or artificial, but please, just grant me this one wish.

Revenge towards towards America during the 60s wasn't fulfilling; revenge against any other being like me is not fulfilling. I know she can't come back to life. So please, at least give me a thread to hold onto....

"Will that really satisfy you?" A shimmering, light voice echoed through the air.

At this point, I don't really care.

"Yes! Please, give me that artificial light! I don't care what I have to do... please..." With every ounce of my strength my body, I pleaded with that voice.

"What if I tell you that you won't be satisfied?" The voice questioned me. I looked up from my miserable state and saw a shining figure in front of me, but my vision was blurred from my falling tears.

"If it won't fulfill me, then let me die. I have lived long enough to see too much suffering; please... grant me something to hold onto."

The light wavered. "I cannot grant you that... your wish is a twisted wish of a mind poisoned by infinite loneliness. You cannot cure it with death. You cannot cure it with nonexistence."

I couldn't take it anymore. "THEN TELL ME! TELL ME WHAT TO DO! I'M TIRED OF EXISTING!"

"I don't need to tell you anything." The light drew closer to me, its warmth different from the cold air that I inhibit. It was almost comforting.

It had morphed into a figure of a woman, pale as ivory, soft as snow. She floated before me, her bright wings outstretched, her feathers gently dropped to the floor.

It was an angel.

I laughed. Now this is funny. I've been praying with the Orthodox church since I was a tiny little child; and this is the first time in my long life meeting an angel, and it just happens to look like her. How laughable.

"So, why are you here?"

The angel looked at straight at me with her (e/c) eyes. "I'm here for you, Ivan. It seems that you have not forgotten about me."

Now this, I say, is a cruel joke.

"You're not her. You just happened to look like her."

She touched my face with her outstretched hands, looking into my eyes, searching for me. I know... I've changed. Since the day I lost you in that terrible, terrible war, I've prayed.

I've prayed and prayed and prayed and prayed. But you never returned. All that's left for me to do now is to wish for a life surrounded by people who love me, for a life in which I can die.

She took her small thumbs to wipe away the tears threatening to flow down my face. "Every time I see your eyes, I always think... what a beautiful shade of violet..."

What kind of eyes does she have in order to see beauty in this world?

"Ivan, I promise you... I won't leave you this time. Believe that I am who I am..."

I nodded. It's impossible to resist now.

That twisted wish turned pure.
That distorted, artificial light... has become as bright and full of life as the sun.