Pyotr reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, faded photograph. In it, a group of young men in worn-out uniforms smiled at the camera, their arms draped over each other's shoulders. They had been his best friends, and they had gone off to a conflict decades ago to protect their homes and families. Pyotr was the only one who had returned.
The old man, Pyotr, looked out his kitchen window at the bustling town square where the annual founder's day celebration was underway. Children were running around, music was playing, and the air was filled with laughter. Pyotr reached into his pocket and pulled out
Pyotr looked around at the sea of standing people and felt a lump in his throat. He realized that he wasn't alone in his remembrance. The entire town was standing with him, and with his friends. Pyotr was the only one who had returned