A decade has passed since Operation Strix began. The once volatile tensions between the East and West have calmed, thanks in part to Loid Forger's relentless efforts. However, rumors of a new program designed to reignite the hostilities have started...
With midterms beginning Monday, students were beginning to feel a dread of anxiety- myself included. After many trial and errors, I came to the realization I shouldn't rely on my powers. I needed to know this stuff for my own sake. There have only been two individuals patient enough to support me through these tedious studying tasks; Grandpa Siggy and Damian.
Grandpa Siggy is still in Poland, according to his latest post card, tensions are very high, he has been seeing some soldiers in the area recently. I couldn't help but feel a bit nervous not only for grandpa, but also for the men who have been taken from their families. In his postcard he had wished me good luck on my tests- he was very proud and knew I would continue to succeed. I wrote him back genuinely thanking him for all the years of support and hoping to see him soon.
Cooking Club along with the other clubs have given us a week break to focus on our tests. I took this opportunity to pick up some extra shifts with Mrs. Blackwell. Many students would go down to the bakery and spend hours studying, ordering rounds and rounds of coffee and different pastries. I decided to help her out since she had done so much for me.
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Today was a much calmer day, we had a few of our regulars come and get their pastries, some students studied in the corner, but there was no rushes. Mrs. Blackwell and I stood in front of the counter, admiring the calm yet lively atmosphere. It was almost like a second home to me, I truly enjoyed working here.
"It's so calm today," Mrs. Blackwell began," it reminds me of the beginning of this bakery, back when my husband and I began this small business," she said her eyes twinkling with nostalgia. "We had days like these where we could really connect with our customers."
I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me. "I love it here, Mrs. Blackwell. It feels like a little haven away from all the stress of school."
Mrs. Blackwell patted my shoulder. "And you're a big part of that, Anya. You bring such a positive energy to this place. My husband would have loved having you here as well."
Mrs. Blackwell almost never talked about her husband. Bash had mentioned that he didn't meet him, his grandfather had died in the war long before he was born. But he has heard some great stories from his grandmother. In the bakery there are various pictures of her and her husband hanging on the walls. I glanced at one of the photographs, an old black-and-white image of a younger Mrs. Blackwell and her husband standing proudly in front of the newly opened bakery. They looked so happy, filled with dreams and hope.
"Your husband must have been a wonderful man," I said softly, turning back to Mrs. Blackwell. "You two built something really special here."
Mrs. Blackwell's eyes grew misty, and she smiled. "He was, Anya. He was the kindest, most hardworking man I ever knew. This bakery was his dream, I always laughed at him, but I loved him so dearly I risked everything to help him build this," She took out her wallet, and handed me a small photograph of a young man dressed in the old Ostania military outfit, a very small smile plastered on his lips.
