Remembrance

In a cozy café nestled in the heart of Budapest, Dan and Lilla sat together, enveloped in the warm, inviting ambiance. The bustle of the city seemed distant, allowing them a moment of quiet introspection.

The latest issue of The Budapest Post lay between them, its front page adorned with Lilla's article – a detailed exposé on the AI Church's recent debacle. Despite the wealth of information in the article, Lilla had more questions, unanswered queries that lingered in the air between them. But Dan, lost in his own world of thought, remained reticent.

Dan's gaze was fixed on his phone, his fingers swiping through a gallery of old school photos. These images, captured in Kharkiv, were relics of a life that felt distant, almost alien now. Each photo was a window to a past untouched by the chaos that had since unfolded.

Breaking the silence, Dan shared a personal revelation, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "My father once told me he never deletes contacts of those who have passed away. He said they are memories, and memories should never be erased. I never really understood that until now."

Lilla listened intently, offering a comforting presence. She realized that Dan wasn't seeking answers or a conversation; he needed someone to share the weight of his thoughts, to simply be there at that moment of reflection.

In a whisper barely audible, Dan uttered, "Press F to pay respects." It was a poignant homage to those lost, a gesture of remembrance rooted in game culture.

As he set his phone aside, a solitary tear escaped his eye. The weight of recent events, the loss of Andrew, and the upheaval in his life had finally found a release.

Lilla reached across the table, gently placing her hand over his. Words were unnecessary; her gesture spoke volumes. In that quiet café, amidst the bustling city of Budapest, Dan found a moment of peace, a brief respite from the turmoil that had engulfed his life.