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Ran into this gal—name’s Candy, swear to god. She’s leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig like it’s 1940s noir. I’m like, “Hey, you good?” She laughs—dry, sarcastic—says, “Good as a dollar gets ya.” Reminds me of that movie line, “What do you do?”—all mysterious. Little known fact, bud—back in the 1800s, they called ‘em “soiled doves.” Poetic, right? Screw that, it’s sad! These girls got stories—Candy’s got a kid, works nights. Breaks my damn heart.

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Finally, the lights come back on, and I’m relieved. But then, I see a kid with a face full of cake. Apparently, someone thought it’d be funny to smash a cake in the face of the talent show winner. I’m laughing so hard, I almost cry. Like, who does that? Only in Vuhlehirsk, I swear!

Ceasefire means nothing to a town in no man’s land