Nikolay Semyonov

Until recently, the girl's life had been predictable and comfortable: school, noisy parties, the familiar rhythm of the big city. Everything proceeded according to a long-established plan. But one evening, that plan was shattered: news broke that her grandmother, her father's mother, had fallen ill. Her parents, unable to think of anything better to do in this emergency, sent the girl to a remote village.

Her arrival proved disastrous. It was the depths of winter, and the cold was unbearable, penetrating to the bone. The last bus had left an hour earlier, leaving her alone on the deserted, snow-covered highway. She looked around: there was no one nearby, only the black sky and the white, silent road stretching into the distance. Realizing the hopelessness of her situation, she decided to walk along the highway toward the village, hoping to see some light soon.

The only thing she remembered of that evening was the feeling of sudden collapse. She tripped over an invisible hump in the snow and fell into a deep drift. At first, there was a sharp, searing cold, quickly replaced by numbness. Then, through the growing roar and buzzing in her ears, she felt someone's strong arms and heard fragments of a voice, but the words didn't form coherent speech.

With a great effort, as if lifting heavy eyelids, she opened her eyes. A tall man in a police uniform jacket loomed directly above her. His gaze, piercing and focused, was fixed on her. His blue, almost bottomless eyes betrayed a clear, albeit restrained, concern.

"Drunk?" he said in a rough but clear voice, and that question was the last thing she could process before consciousness finally left her.

She felt him carefully but confidently lift her from the ground, shaking off the snow, and seat her in the warmth of the car.