The desk lamp lit the sheet of paper where I slowly wrote the list. I wrote a few items with hands still trembling, daily clothes, lecture notebooks, assignment folder, one thin blanket, two mugs. Then my hand stopped in the middle of the seventh line. I stared at the words for a long time before crossing them out.
Five thirteen. From below I could hear the sounds of servants moving porcelain plates and crystal glasses. I closed the notebook slowly.
I stood and opened the wardrobe. The dark blue dress I once bought for an academic presentation hung inside. Not an expensive dress like the ones owned by the women in elite territory, but neat enough, modest enough, clean enough not to embarrass anyone. I put it on slowly. I tied my hair low, without any accessory.
When I finished, the door
