Seven Miles East Of Bezdonys

A slight, older Belarusian man sat hunched over a game of chess. His brow furrowed as he analyzed the consequences of the various moves available to him. 

His attention however, was suddenly diverted from the chessboard by a loud clamor that came from directly outside the small cafe he and his opponent and the game they had been playing for nearly two hours was located in.

Looking over his spectacles he saw the figures of five young men through the dirty glass of the windows. The men all seemed to be waving flags or banners of some sort that had been attached to tall poles. 

"Hmmm..." he mused to himself. "More earnest young men caught up in the rapture of what is no doubt a great cause..." He returned his attention to the board and castled queenside, thinking to himself, "Poor fools, cursed by the courage of immature convictions."