Today, while clearing out an old shelter, I found a notebook that was half burned. The surviving pages were covered in writing, mostly records of supply distribution and patrol logs. But on the last page, someone had written in a trembling hand: 'Today she smiled at me. Maybe we really can win.' I don't know who 'she' is, and I don't know if the person who wrote those words is still alive. I closed the notebook and put it back where I found it. Some hopes shouldn't be taken away.
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