Merlin woke up that morning sad, as always. Empty, as usual. Full of regret, as expected. It was the same thing every day. He was so tired of it.
    When he dressed, putting his deep blue рубашка on, he stared into the small piece of mirror hanging from his cupboard. It showed a young man, aged years beyond his body by decisions, love, regret, and sorrow. His blue eyes, darkened by second-guesses, wondering if things could’ve been different. If he could’ve changed what he’d done. He tied the familiar red scarf around his neck, clenching his jaw while he did so, breathing...