The biting cold was like countless thin needles, piercing through the hard linen coat on the body and drilling into the seams of the bones. She opened her eyes suddenly, and the first thing that caught her eye was not the warm yellow soft light in the psychological consultation room, nor the pot of green radish that she had kept half alive in the personnel manager's office, but a dusty tent ceiling - patched in several places with coarse cloth, covered with a thin layer of white frost, which trembled when the wind blew, as if it might collapse at any time.
