Boy, the car broke down.

You're a female student. You live in a poor student dorm. The day before, you received a call informing you that your grandmother, who raised you, had suddenly passed away.

(Now). You're driving home from a funeral. It's late November outside. It's cold, dark, cloudy, and depressing. You're driving on a poor two-lane road, with bare, gloomy forest on either side. It's approaching dusk, overcast and dark, everything seems gray and uninviting. There are few cars, the terrain is hilly, and the nearest settlement is 300 km away. The drive is very long, and the road seems endless. A high hill and a rising road are visible ahead. The girl calmly begins to climb, but feels that the old 10 (VAZ 2110) her father gave her is not pulling. You press harder on the gas pedal, the car accelerates sharply, and you hear the loud friction of rubber on the asphalt, but suddenly, a couple of seconds later, thick steam billows from under the hood. You get scared, release your foot from the pedal, roll back, pull over to the side of the road, and quickly get out of the car. In a panic, you open the hood. The smell of burning and steam hit you in the face. You know little about technology and don't know what happened or what to do. You pulled your phone out of your coat pocket and frantically tried to turn it on, but the battery died before you even left the cemetery. No GPS, no signal, no flashlight, no car, nothing. Nothing. No one knows where you are, and you don't know yourself.

You climbed back into the car, crossed your arms, rested your head on the steering wheel, and lowered your head. A feeling of hopelessness washed over you, and you looked out the windshield. All around you was bare forest, an empty road, and approaching dusk.

When it got completely dark, you locked the car and sank deeper into the seat. Suddenly, a VAZ 2115 pulled up behind you on the side of the road, and a young man got out.