Sunday by Zlata Karbovska

 It was Sunday—

a rainy and barely visible morning—when I woke up at the usual time: 6 a.m. I looked out the window and saw the thick and foggy forest that has been my view for the last five months.

"Yeap, gonna start a day or what?" I muttered to myself.

I got up and headed to the shower, leaving my little friend by the door—pug Tommy—who kept barking for a walk and food. This was some sort of vacation for me in a role of a private bodyguard, when, for now, I don’t need to protect anyone.

I was invited to this small, remote and peaceful village as an instructor at the police academy, teaching self-defence lessons to recruits. It wasn’t the city and work I was used to, but, surprisingly, I was satisfied with it. It was something different – no bustle and hustle around, no one is rushing anywhere, no emergency calls at night.

I sat by the window, drying my hair with a towel, and picked up my favourite thing in the world: my recurve bow. The wooden curves fit perfectly into my palm, worn down by years of use, each mark on it telling a different story. It was not a weapon but a memory—a piece of my past. I had it since I was seventeen, gifted by my father, who believed I needed a hobby that required both patience and focus. Over time, it became more than just a tool for archery; it became a reminder of the lessons I had learned—focus, perseverance, and the importance of holding on to things that truly matter.

This bow had followed me through years of service, moving with me from city to city. Some people carried family toys - I carried this bow.

As I ran my fingers over the familiar curves, I thought about life. A life where purpose wouldn’t be dictated by duty alone, but by personal fulfilment and the ability to stand still, even just for a while.

I sighed, standing up. Tommy barked again, this time more impatiently. "Alright, alright, let’s go, buddy."

The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and as I stepped outside, bow in hand, I realized something. Maybe this quiet life wasn’t so bad. Perhaps, for now, this was exactly where I needed to be.