It is dark, very dark. The last rays of the sun barely touch the buildings. One would think it couldn't get any colder, yet the chest thermometer continued to show a temperature below acceptable. Well, "acceptable." Minus 30 degrees Celsius is quite normal for the locals. After all, those who have fur coats and fuel are considered wealthy. Everyone else can only hope for the mercy of fate. And the night hasn't even started yet. It's time to find shelter.

When I reach the shelter, I need to pray for the day that has passed," flashes through my mind. Such a familiar routine, yet so soothing, even though I no longer have any connection to the church of the goddess who protects us. How did they even come to think they could expel anyone from the church? Doesn't the goddess accept everyone under her wing to ease our pains?

Three fingers till sunset. There's no more time to dwell on the past. Trevor, it's time to set off. But the view really makes you feel the melancholy of the situation. Huge giants of stone and metal, whose name, passed down from generation to generation by the priests, was skyscrapers, are now leaning or have sunk several meters into the ground. I am standing on this big highway. Although the name is ancient, I still use it. Now they are called bridges, trade routes, or threads, but for me, raised in the church, the names of our ancestors sound much more familiar. This highway stretches so far but ends right here. I've reached the edge. Concrete hangs in chunks on the rebar, and this is the end of the road. In the distance, there's only snow and the approaching darkness. Two fingers till nightfall.

It's a dead end. I probably won't have time to find a proper shelter. Going down the motorway's not an option. The frozen ground is no better. Looking to my right, I see a small ledge. A large and tall concrete fence continues below. Wide enough for one person to walk over. Then I have to jump and hope that the goddess hasn't turned her back on me and I land on the roofs of cars with my legs intact. 

It hurts so much. And yet all my legs are still in place. It's true what they say, it gets harder as you get older. But when I was a kid, I could jump from such heights and I didn't have a scratch on me. They came back later. When I was caught not being in the cathedral at evening prayer. Honestly, I'd give anything for that soup now. What am I thinking? I've got to find shelter. I've only got one toe left till nightfall.

The straps of the rucksack are already digging into my back, but finally I can see ahead of me. There's the shelter. The debris of the wall hangs over the sides of the entrance, but it's better than nothing. The wind is picking up, but there's no sign of the storm yet. But it doesn't take an experienced tramp to see a storm to know when it's coming. The golden hair was beginning to come out of the many layers of hoods and bandages, shining in the last rays of the sun. I can't even look up at the sky. The fatigue is getting worse as I walk down the endless hallway of the building from the old days. At last an undamaged room. And with a deadbolt door. Looks like the man who lived here is never coming back. The room has long been covered in dust and snow. A lot of things are permanently frozen in place. But it's 10 degrees warmer in here than it is outside. Or maybe it feels that way because there's no more wind? I feel sorry for you, philistine, whoever you are. I hope you just left this place and not this world.

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How long have I been alone? Months, maybe years. The last time I had a proper meal was that unfortunate evening. Right now, I'm making do with what I can. I'm only dreaming of a proper rest. Actually, I don't even dream about it. There was an improvised table made of crates in this small room. An oil lamp frozen to the floor. And in the far dark corner lay a crumpled sleeping bag. What luck! However, to take off my clothes was a tipping decision. But the rucksack could be used instead of a pillow. If they rob you, they'll have to wake you up first. I'm not going down without a fight. Although I'm not much of a threat. My gear weighs more than I do. I'm sure if I took off my jacket and rucksack, the first wind that comes along would teach me to fly. I'm checking the beams on the windows. It's nicely done. I don't know how long they've been here, but they get the job done. I've got enough fuel for two days. Food for three maybe less. Night is coming. Time to close the doors. Outside the window, a blizzard is rising. I hope all the travellers have found shelter. There's a strange noise. Is that it? An old radio picking up a signal? I can't make out anything. How long has it been here? The only thing I can hear from the intermittent bits and pieces is that everyone must go to shelter. There must be a town around here somewhere. But looking for it without a map or compass is a lost cause. I have neither. Still, how long have people been here? The radio works, but everything else is untouched? Oh Goddess, is this your evil joke on me or is my hungry mind playing tricks on me?

It would be a lot easier if I could start some kind of fire, but it's definitely not a good idea indoors. The blizzard is already hitting full force. But it won't reach me. I hope the owner of this place doesn't come back. Yes, I've already prayed for his safety, but I still want to live. I hope Greg is well. He stayed there in the cathedral after all. I wonder if he misses me. As the sun sets, it's time for prayer. And after that, I'll go to bed until the sun comes up. I fold my hands in the posture of prayer. The goddess loves us.