Mum is going to the city. She wants to cash out all of the money we have. It’s a good opportunity to visit our flat, rest and have a shower. God, it’s been weeks since I’ve showered. Clean-washed, I feel like a new person. I’ve missed this.
And then I get a call. The call. “Oleksandr?” a man on the other end of the line asks me. I don’t recognise the number or his voice. “Yes?”
“Grab your documents and come to the military commissariat where you’re registered. We’ll see you at the mobilisation office between 8am and 5pm.”
A sudden shock kicks me out of my bubble. I don’t have any prior military experience or training.
Mum tells me that we could just flee. But isn’t that what cowards usually do? I’m a pacifist and have no interest in fighting. But I have promised that in case things go south, I’ll do something. If they need my help, it’s the right choice to make.
“I’m going to enlist tomorrow.”