The Odessa morning was clear and ringing. The sun was rising over Peresyp, flooding the streets with soft light, where the noise, dust, and bustle of the waking city melted into the air.

  Chelago walked slowly down a quiet street, feeling how the city was fading — not around him, but somewhere inside. Today was the last day before a long journey.

  He stopped in front of a modest sign above a wooden door: "Suputnyk. Goods for Travelers."

  The shop was simple. No flashy posters, no mannequins in the windows — just wood, glass, and a clean sign above the door.

  Chelago pushed the door open. A copper bell chimed softly overhead.

  Inside, it smelled of leather, wax, and coarse fabric. Along the walls hung backpacks, bags, belts, and neatly stacked canteens in canvas covers. Here, they didn’t sell fashion. They sold the road.

  Behind the counter stood a young woman — clear-eyed, with light hair and a quick, attentive gaze. Her name was Alisa.

  "Good day, sir!" she said warmly. "Are you looking for something specific?"

  "Yes. A small bag. Strong. For a long journey."

  Alisa thought for a second, then smiled and deftly pulled a sand-colored haversack from the shelf.

  "We have one model — I think it’s just for you. This is the Bobby Lee Haversack. Made in our own workshop. Reinforced seams, a special document compartment, not a stitch wasted. Reliable — like an old, faithful horse."

  Chelago took the bag. He checked the stitching, the buckles. The fabric was pleasant to the touch — strong, yet light. A thing you could trust with your most valuable possessions.

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  "Exactly what I need," he said quietly.

  Alisa packed the bag into a canvas sack, wished him a good journey, and he stepped back outside.

  The streets were bathed in sunshine. Through half-open shutters came the smells of coffee and fresh bread. Chelago turned into a narrow side alley and stopped at a small café: "Uncle Misha’s Place." The sign creaked in the breeze.

  Inside, everything was sparkling clean and warmly welcoming.

  He ordered a cup of coffee and a croissant. Sitting by the window, he looked out at the street still glistening with morning dew. He unfolded a fresh copy of the Journal d’Odessa.

  For a moment, everything felt simple. The world shrank to the gleam on the table, the whisper of pages, the slow breathing of hot coffee. Perhaps this was how people felt who had nothing but their ordinary day ahead.

  He sipped slowly. Savored it. Allowed himself the luxury of just living — without plans, without hurry, without fear.

  But the thoughts were already pulling him forward.

  The mission that awaited him was dangerous. Beyond this delicate veil of morning stood reality: he might not return.

  He set down the cup. Folded the newspaper.

  "Death…" The thought brushed his mind.

  He had faced it before. Looked it straight in the eyes — and had not been afraid.

  Death, for Chelago, was not the end. Not destruction. He thought of it as a door — unseen, but real. A passage through a threshold into another world, another life.

  He remembered: the Siege of Metz. The Franco-Prussian War. That was where he had lost everything: his wife, his infant son, his old life. Under the roaring fire of the heavy German artillery, a single shell had erased his past.

  He had survived. But he had known since then: death does not divide. It reunites.

  If he died — he would meet them again. They would be waiting. There, where there is no fear, no pain. He would be embraced by the strong, kind hands of the One who had created him, who had given him eternal life.

  Chelago turned toward the sunlight, half-closing his eyes. "For me, death is not emptiness," he thought. "It is a meeting. With them. With Him."

  He recalled the words of the Apostle Paul: "Now we see but a dim reflection, as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face."

  And he smiled.

  Because he believed: one day, everything hidden would be revealed. All roads, all losses, all wounds would form a shining design in the eternal plan of the Creator.

  He stood up, adjusted the bag on his shoulder, and stepped out of the café.

  The sky was clear. A soft breeze from the sea stirred the air, reminding him of the journey ahead. Of the new chapter of life that was beginning — right now.