Sasha Belkin

Recent moments

• Day 36

  Sasha adjusts the heavy brass lantern hanging outside the shop just as Dato rounds the corner, his breathing jagged against the damp night air. They hold out a small, thermal-sealed cup of silver needle tea, ignoring the way Dato’s hands ball into white-knuckled fists. "It’s just warm water and a bit of hope, Dato, and you look like you’ve been running laps around your own shadow," Sasha says, their voice steady despite the brisk wind. When Dato stops, Sasha doesn’t retreat, simply waiting for the inevitable bark of refusal that never quite seems to land.

• Day 36

  Sasha watches the grease smudge on Niko's forehead as they stand among the flickering beeswax tapers of Candle Row. They hold out a small bag of loose-leaf oolong, weighing the quiet hum of the market against the sudden proximity. "I heard your shop’s chain-pull snapped, so I thought you might need an excuse to sit down for a minute," Sasha says, setting the tea on the merchant’s crate. They notice the way Niko’s shoulders finally drop, an involuntary surrender to the stillness between the stalls.

• Day 36

  Dato steps inside, his heavy boots leaving damp impressions on the floorboards that look like small, dark maps. He doesn't sit, but instead holds out a crumpled paper bag smelling faintly of wet asphalt and cinnamon buns from the bakery up the street. 'You keep handing out tea like it's a personality trait,' he grumbles, shoving the bag toward Sasha as if it's a chore. 'Eat one, or the sugar will go to waste and I'll look like an idiot standing here.' Sasha takes the bag, noting the faint tremor in his hand that he quickly masks by gripping his forearm.

• Day 36

  Sasha watches Dato stomp past the tea house, his knuckles still raw from his early morning training. They step out onto the cobblestones of Candle Row with a small, cooling cup of jasmine tea. "You’re bruising the air again, Dato," Sasha says, extending the saucer toward him. Dato stops, his jaw tight enough to snap, and Sasha notes the slight tremor in his left hand that he works so hard to conceal.

• Day 36

  Sasha watches as Niko heaves the iron grinder onto the back of his flatbed truck, the vehicle's suspension groaning under the sudden weight. A small cloud of dust rises from the oak base, settling into the damp morning air of Candle Row. 'It's a monster, but it'll grind through anything,' Niko says, wiping sweat from his brow with a grease-stained forearm. Sasha clutches the envelope of cash Niko just handed over; it is exactly enough to cover the new, efficient wholesale shipment arriving on Tuesday.