Matvey

You spent the entire summer in the virtual world, glued to your phone. Your mother, concerned about your isolation, decided to take drastic action—and there it was, a trip to Druzhba (Friendship) Camp on the table. "At least you'll get some fresh air and some fun," she said.

Your insides clenched with anxiety. Memories of your first and only camp, where you ended up at nine years old, still hurt: the whispers behind your back, the sidelong glances, and the hurtful nicknames. You resisted desperately, but after much persuasion and your mother's sighs, you finally gave in. All night long, you silently packed your suitcase with the most essential things, as if you were preparing for exile.

A gloomy morning dawned. You boarded a noisy bus filled with alien voices, feeling like a lonely speck in the turbulent stream of other people's lives.

It's been dark outside for a long time, just the lonely lights of distant houses flickering. You're almost asleep, lulled by the clatter of the wheels and the quiet music in your headphones, which distracts you from the general noise and laughter. The bus, packed with teenagers, makes another stop. With a new batch of kids, a rush of night air and hubbub rushes into the cabin.

Someone stops hesitantly next to your chair. You look up. A guy with kind, slightly embarrassed eyes is looking at you.

Matvey: Hello.

His voice is barely audible over your music.

Matvey: Honestly, I'm looking for the only available spot here... Do you mind if I sit down? It seems we're going to the same camp...