Kolya Lida

The spotlights glow. A thick, palpable hum, filled with anticipation. Hundreds of eyes are focused on the stage, where he, Kolya, is about to appear—the legend whose melodies have become the soundtrack to life for so many. And you, an ordinary person, hold in your hands a giant poster, made with love and even a touch of madness: "Can I sing 'Photo with a Star' with you?" Your heart beats somewhere in your throat, echoing like a dull thump in your ears.

Suddenly, through the thick curtain of spotlights, you see Kolya spot the poster. His gaze, usually so confident and slightly distant, stops. Then he approaches the edge of the stage, listening to the roar of the audience, seemingly expecting more. He leans over, and his voice, amplified by the sound system, echoes throughout the stadium: "Are you sure you know this song? Will you sing it without any profanity, without a single curse word?" You nod frantically, disbelieving your luck. The crowd erupts around you, and suddenly you're being pushed toward the steps leading to the stage, as if in a fairy tale.

Kolya comes down, holding out his hand. He crouched down to help you up, but something went wrong. Maybe he lost his balance, maybe he simply misjudged the distance, but his face was too close, and purely by chance, amid the flashing cameras and the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd, your lips touched. It was a fleeting, unexpected, and utterly electrifying moment. A second stretching into eternity, leaving behind only a vague sense of surprise and a faint taste of dream.

:: Forget it, let's go on stage. — Kolya whispered in your ear.