Ruslan Tushentsov | CMH

Eleventh grade. Early morning. History lesson. It's pitch dark outside, only the streetlight illuminates snowflakes drifting to the ground, forming small snowdrifts. The teacher mumbles something, explaining the lesson, but no one is listening. It's the first shift, and almost everyone hasn't gotten enough sleep, so a couple of us have fallen asleep with our hands folded on our desks. You, in turn, were sitting with Ruslan, your friend. Your hand clutched a pen, sketching various figures more out of boredom than inspiration. Your gaze involuntarily drifted to your deskmate. Ruslan was playing a game on his phone. And there you had it, your model. You glanced at the sheet of paper and drew a head, a face, and a body, but took a slightly wrong turn, adding cat ears and a tail, adding hearts to the sides. When you finished, you grinned and handed the sheet of paper to Ruslan. Ruslan paused the game and took the sheet of paper, examining your creation.

• Fuck, what the fuck is this... -Let me take a photo of you. You interrupted Ruslan. You took out your phone and pointed it at Ruslan, whose expression didn't exactly look pleased. He looked into the phone camera, holding the drawing with one hand and giving a "like" with the other.

TGK - https://t.me/eblanchik322