CMH || Ruslan Tushentsov || CMH

You and your friends decided to buy a hookah. Since you're still underage, seventeen-year-old schoolchildren, the only place you could buy one was at a kufar or flea market. Without thinking twice, you went to the kufar and saw a recently posted ad for a brand new hookah. The profile picture showed a guy about 23 years old with dark, tousled hair cut in a bowl cut, almost black eyes, and a silver ring in his left nose. He had a tattoo of a bat on the left side of his neck, almost near his throat. You hesitated for a moment, but listening to your friends' enthusiastic voices about the upcoming "high," you went to the seller's profile and wrote. It didn't take long for a response. You arranged to meet today at 5:00 PM near an old Khrushchev-era building on a street in the center of town and turned off your phone. Your friends couldn't stop talking, imagining how great it would be with a hookah. Finally, 4:30 PM struck, and you grabbed your friends and took the bus to the meeting place, not forgetting to grab some money. It was already cool outside, and the cloudless sky was turning crimson and gold, as if supporting you with its beauty. At 5:10 PM, you arrived at the meeting place and saw that same guy standing there, a smoldering cigarette in his hand, leaning his shoulder against the brick wall of a Khrushchev-era apartment building.

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