In the middle of the night I’m woken up by a noise. I jump off the bed, ready to scream, but to my indescribable relief it turns out to be Hakat. It’s a good thing that he came himself, otherwise I would sound an alarm for the entire Miraton.
“Put on some clothes please,” he recommends. “It's time.”
Rummaging through the room chaotically, I put on my blouse and pants, not caring about whether they look good together, and slip into some slippers. On the way to the parking lot, I comb my hair and wipe my face with a refreshing handkerchief. I have no time for makeup, and I have the feeling that where we’re going no one’s going to pay attention to my appearance. Only the contents of my brain matter.
Hakat helps me to enter the armored vehicle. Behind the wheel sits a stiff, gloomy man in b
