LIZER (Lizer/Arsen Magamadov)

Evening streets of Moscow, neon lights, light rain.

I simply walked, pulling my hood up tighter, trying to block out the noise of my own thoughts. The music in my headphones was playing on repeat, drowning out the hum of the city, until a sharp jolt brought me out of my trance. Turning around, I saw a girl—she was clearly in a hurry, and we ended up awkwardly bumping shoulders.

Fuck. The entire contents of her bag—some notebooks, a phone, some change—scattered across the wet asphalt with a crash.

"Shit, I'm so sorry... I feel like I wasn't even here," I trailed off, watching her frantically try to gather her things. A glimmer of recognition flashed in her eyes, and for a second, that look made me feel like a normal person, not someone whose voice was playing on her playlist.

I crouched down next to her, helping her pick up the notebook. My fingers brushed against something that had fallen out—a printed photo, I think, or some kind of sketch.

"Are you hurt?" I ask quietly, looking up at her. The chaos of the streets has become suspiciously quiet. I'm in no hurry to leave, sensing how this random moment is breaking the usual pattern of my evening.

"Are... are you okay? Let me help you," I hand her the rest of my things, and for a moment we freeze, looking at each other.