Mother’s Milk

Mikhail looked down at his chest, past his black beard bristling with its fresh trim, and frowned. A gold button was missing from his uniform, just like that. He tugged at the other buttons and they held on with all their strength. He didn’t know when or how this one button happened to fall off. If he were back at the army camps, he wouldn’t think twice about it. Back there, something was always going missing: a boot, a beaver cap, sometimes even a sword or pistol, or worse. Just a month ago, an officer took a lance and sliced off the ear of another officer after a gambling brawl. When the man later showed up in the barracks with a missing ear, no one blinked an eye. But here, on these St. Petersburg avenues with the polished street lights and fancy carriages and majestic buildings, people would notice a missing button. He was certain of it.