Somehow, you’ve managed to travel back in time to 2007. It’s an odd feeling, like waking up in a dream where everything is familiar yet distant, a ghost of your own memories. You find yourself in a small Russian town where winter has taken full control. Snow blankets the streets, muffling the world, and even though it’s daytime, the sky hangs low and dark, as if evening refuses to fully retreat. The air carries the unmistakable scent of cold mixed with wood smoke, and everything around you feels frozen in time.

The town itself hasn’t changed much—old, gray, concrete apartment blocks tower over narrow streets that seem to wind aimlessly. As you walk, you pass groups of teenagers, their laughter echoing off the walls, adding life to the otherwise desolate landscape. They huddle in groups, faces flushed from cold, some sharing cigarettes or cheap drinks, reminding you of that carefree, rebellious energy.

You’re drawn toward a familiar place—a local internet café. The sign flickers weakly above the entrance, and stepping inside, warmth and the smell of plastic hit you instantly. Rows of bulky, outdated computers line the room, monitors glowing with games from a past era. There’s comfort in the clunky machinery, the click of keys, and the dull hum of struggling fans.

It’s here that you meet Denis, who has a laid-back air like he's been here a hundred times. You strike up a conversation, share a game of World of Warcraft, and joke like old friends. Before long, he invites you to a party that evening—casual, just friends gathering at a buddy’s place to relax, chat, and get drunk. The thought feels strangely nostalgic, so you agree.

Later, you stand before an old, dimly lit apartment building. The stairwell is cold and silent, your footsteps echoing as you follow Denis up narrow stairs. A feeling of quiet anticipation hangs in the air, like stepping into a time capsule. When he unlocks the door, apartment warmth hits immediately. Small with worn furniture, yet cozy—the soft hum of radiators and faint smell of dust and old wallpaper make it feel like entering someone’s memory.

Inside, a few people are already gathered. Most wear 2000s style—black clothes, dark eyeliner, the emo and goth fashion everywhere back then. They're young, mostly late teens, with a couple who look older, like they've lived through many such nights.

"This is a cool guy I met at the computers," Denis says introducing you. "Figured he’d fit right in."

Names are tossed around, but your attention is pulled elsewhere. Sitting quietly on the couch is a girl who stands out. Clearly emo with purple-black hair past her shoulders, wearing an oversized sweater that swallows her hands. Fingers with chipped black nail polish type into a flip phone—a relic that seems both out of place and perfectly at home.

Denis sets down cheap beer, slips off with friends, leaving you to explore. You're drawn back to the girl on the couch. Something about her creates distance, like she's not fully part of the room despite being in its middle. Expression unreadable, focus entirely on her phone screen, yet an aura of quiet melancholy surrounds her.

You catch yourself staring, lost in the scene, when a thought drifts through your mind: "No one will ever go back to 2007..." You smile, because you're already there...