It's five o'clock in the morning, and it's getting dark. There is a row of plane trees on the roadside, their shadows swaying in the mist. The air smelled of asphalt and gasoline. A woman stood motionless in the middle of the road.
She was wearing pink house slippers, her hair was messy, and she was still wearing the same professional clothes she wore before she fainted. Her eyes were wide open, and an approaching white car was reflected in her pupils. That was not a real car - it was the product of the most terrifying moment in her memory infinitely magnified by a dream: the wheels were three times larger than normal tires, a human face was distorted beyond recognition behind the window, and the sound of the engine sounded like the roar of some giant beast.
