It all started with a small act of kindness.
“— May I help you?” the man called to the woman, noticing her struggle with two heavy bags.
“— Oh, really? Are you sure? Aren’t they too heavy?” she smiled, a little surprised. “— Thank you.”
Without hesitation, the man took the bags, making it seem like they weighed nothing at all, and began walking ahead with long, confident strides. The woman, Galina, a bit shorter and rounder than him, hurried to keep up, her steps quick and light.
“— Please, slow down a bit! I can hardly catch my breath!” she gasped, but the man didn’t seem to notice.
“— Sorry! I got lost in thought,” he apologized, turning back to her.
“— What were you thinking about?” Galina asked with genuine curiosity.
The man’s eyes seemed distant as he replied, “It’s… about myself. About life.”
Galina, ever friendly, looked him over. His clothes were worn, patched in places, and he seemed out of place in the lively town.
“— What do you mean by that?” she asked gently.
He sighed, scratching his head. “— I think about a lot of things… just don’t really know where to start.”
“— Don’t tell me you drink?” Galina asked cautiously.
He shook his head, reassuring her. “— No, nothing like that. Just… I think too much.”
“— Ahh, I see! So, what’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”
The man hesitated for a moment before answering, “— They call me Vaska… but that’s just a nickname.”
Galina blinked. “— A nickname? What’s your real name?”
He paused, as though unsure of the answer. “— Honestly, I don’t remember my real name.”
Galina’s eyes widened in surprise. “— You don’t remember?”
He shook his head. “— I have no memories of my past. I was found on the side of the road, bruised and confused. No one knew who I was.”
Her heart ached for him. “— That’s… that’s so tough. You must have been through a lot.”
Vaska nodded. “— I don’t remember much. Sometimes, I get flashes — faces, places, but nothing concrete. It’s like I’m a new person, starting over.”
“— That sounds hard,” she said softly. “But you seem strong. You’re still standing, and that says a lot.”
Vaska smiled faintly. “— I guess.”
After some time, Galina spoke up. “— You know, I can help. I work for someone who might need a strong hand around the house. You look like you could use a steady job.”
Vaska’s face lit up with hope. “— That sounds amazing. I’d really appreciate that.”
Together, they walked to the large house where Galina worked. The iron gates opened to a sprawling garden, and a two-story home stood behind them, bathed in sunlight.
“— Here we are,” Galina said as they entered the house. “Let me introduce you to my employer. Maybe there’s something here you can help with.”
The kitchen was warm, filled with the comforting scent of fresh food. Galina quickly went to speak with her employer, leaving Vaska to sit and take in the surroundings.
The moment he stepped inside, he felt something stir in his chest — an odd sensation of familiarity, like this place was somewhere he’d been before.
A few minutes later, Galina returned, bringing a plate of food. “— You must be hungry. Go ahead, eat. I’ll be back soon.”
Vaska sat down, took a bite, and immediately felt a sense of nostalgia flood over him. The taste was warm, comforting, familiar — like a memory he could almost reach but couldn’t quite grasp.
Suddenly, Galina’s employer, Rimma, walked into the room, holding an old photo album. As she glanced at Vaska, her expression changed, her eyes widening in recognition.
“— Wait… What’s your name again?” she asked softly.
“— Vaska,” he replied, still uncertain of his identity.
Rimma’s face grew pale as she sat down, almost as though she were overcome by something deep and powerful. “— No… that’s not your name. Your name is Klim.”
“— Klim?” Vaska’s heart raced. “How do you know that?”
Rimma’s voice shook as she explained, “— Because… I’m your mother.”
The room seemed to stop. Galina stood frozen, watching the strange and emotional exchange between the two.
Rimma continued, “— You were lost, and I thought I’d lost you forever. But now\… here you are.”
As she spoke, Vaska felt his memories slowly return in flashes — images of his childhood, his father, his mother’s warm embrace.
“— I named you Klim after my father,” Rimma whispered. “You were our miracle, but we lost you too soon.”
Tears filled her eyes as she spoke about the day they thought he was gone forever, the day they had buried him, only to be reunited in this impossible moment.
“— Mom…” Vaska whispered, barely able to say the words as the truth settled in.
