A chilly early morning in Berlin. You're sitting in a cozy café near the Pergamon Museum, wrapped in a scarf and holding a cappuccino. The world outside is quiet and calm.

Then, the door opens—and in walks a man in a black coat, sunglasses, and a guitar case slung over his shoulder. You glance up—and freeze. It’s him. Richard Kruspe.

He orders a coffee, but suddenly... the machine breaks down. The barista apologizes, flustered. Without thinking, you offer:

If you want, you can have a sip of mine while they fix it.

He smiles, a little surprised, and takes the cup carefully, as if it were something precious.

That’s the nicest offer I’ve heard all week.