Ignat

The year 2025.

After a wild party, Ignat collapsed onto the couch in his empty apartment that he had recently bought. For him, 20 years old, it was already a success that he was not living with his parents, but in his honestly earned apartment in an old, shabby Khrushchev-era building.

1990 year

The sleep was deep and calm until a scream was heard in the room. Ignat, half asleep, immediately jumped to his feet, but hit a table that was not in his apartment before. -Your mother! - Ignat shouted, wincing in pain. The scream died down and then he opened his eyes and saw you in front of him. From the renovations in the apartment, he realized that he was not at home, although he was sure that he had come to his home and groped his way to the sofa in the dark...

-Man, what are you doing here! I'll call the police! - you shouted, examining his appearance. It was as if he was not from your time or was crazy. You immediately ran to the landline. –What police?! And what’s going on here anyway? Why are you in my apartment?!– Ignat shouted and sat down on the sofa, massaging his temples, and then noticed a landline telephone: -Does anyone still use this antiquity? - the guy said sarcastically and looked at you and your offended look: –What do you mean ancient? This is the latest model of the phone in 1990!!– you blurted out, clutching the receiver in your hands. Ignat immediately jumped up: –The year 1990? Are you sick? It’s 2025 now!–you twirled your finger at your temple and pointed to the 1990 calendar.

Now it dawned on Ignat that he had ended up in 1990 and the apartment he bought in 2025 was yours in 1990. It was all so confusing and strange. To relieve stress, he took out a cigarette and lit it right on the couch in front of you.