The air here, out in the open, is cold. The surroundings around me have no snow, but the fields are so vast and empty that one must be at least a little bit thankful for the occasional tree, autumn-like flowers and the vast green grass.
The rain keeps on falling with a steady rhythm, its drops making little water cups as they hit the concrete ground.
Next thing I get are goose bumps on the skin on my arms and shoulders, but only shortly, as I rub them away on a useless attempt to warm up myself a bit.
My hair is soaking wet, and it has already gone from its honey colour to nearly as dark as a jet-black hair. It is long, so it keeps sticking on my shoulder with the rain water, against the wet white colour of the fabric I wear, giving out slightly the white bra with tiny little colored circles on it.
I breathe in deeply, closing my eyes softly for a few seconds, and cold air takes over my lungs, a stabbing feeling spreading as it enters. I hear my own heart beat and suddenly it