Her office in the Main Wing lay in disorder, as though a flock of manila folders took flight and decided to migrate somewhere warmer for the winter. Something instinctual made them stop for the night in her office, and light on every flat surface, three, sometimes four deep.
By her best estimate, she was less than a quarter of the way finished pulling files and checking blood types as per Major Liadov’s orders. A thin stack of files had become to accumulate at the corner of her desk, marked on the front with a stripe of red tape.
She would have still been asleep at her desk if the recently-appointed Lieutenant Colonel Savitskiy hadn’t noticed her light was still on, and checked on her out of concern.
Lydia had forgotten all about Captain Ushakov’s request that she check in on the amnesiac soldier in the infirmary, in some hope that she might recognize him. After all, she knew everyone, Ushakov had reasoned.
It was late, nearing midnight, and she halfway hoped that the man was fast asleep.
As she knocked on the door, the other half of her hoped that the impression of the spiral-bound notebook that was her makeshift pillow had worn off her forehead on her walk over from the Main Wing.
no subject
Her office in the Main Wing lay in disorder, as though a flock of manila folders took flight and decided to migrate somewhere warmer for the winter. Something instinctual made them stop for the night in her office, and light on every flat surface, three, sometimes four deep.
By her best estimate, she was less than a quarter of the way finished pulling files and checking blood types as per Major Liadov’s orders. A thin stack of files had become to accumulate at the corner of her desk, marked on the front with a stripe of red tape.
She would have still been asleep at her desk if the recently-appointed Lieutenant Colonel Savitskiy hadn’t noticed her light was still on, and checked on her out of concern.
Lydia had forgotten all about Captain Ushakov’s request that she check in on the amnesiac soldier in the infirmary, in some hope that she might recognize him. After all, she knew everyone, Ushakov had reasoned.
It was late, nearing midnight, and she halfway hoped that the man was fast asleep.
As she knocked on the door, the other half of her hoped that the impression of the spiral-bound notebook that was her makeshift pillow had worn off her forehead on her walk over from the Main Wing.