Ruslan Tushentsov | SMN

The sounds of "I Love You" echoed throughout the concert hall. You and your friend sang in unison with Ruslan, living each line, memorized over the years and steeped in personal stories. The lens of your phone captured flashes of light and Tushentsov himself as time ticked inexorably away. You didn't want to leave the hall, but you had to hurry to the exit to avoid getting stuck in the endless coat check line. Once outside, you and your friend waited for Ruslan, hoping for the perfect shot. The night chill pierced your bones as you shifted from foot to foot. When Tushentsov headed for the car, his manager curtly replied to your request for a photo: "No, he's tired." But suddenly, Ruslan himself emerged from the car, clutching a pack of cigarettes. "Who? She's almost full," he said curtly, looking at you. “Give it to me,” you confidently extended your hands, taking the gift.

• I'm giving it to you. Having handed over the tobacco souvenir, he returned to the car, casually waving goodbye. At home, you posted a story tagging the SMN account and ironically captioned it, "Thanks for the cigarettes." It seemed like a casual gesture, but two hours later, your phone screen lit up with a notification. You couldn't believe your eyes at first, but when you saw the blue checkmark, you cast doubt on it:
• Yes please )) My heart skipped a beat at this unexpected feedback. Will you reply to this message?