17

“You won’t make it in time,” the taxi driver said maliciously.

Getting out of the car, Victor imagined how many industrial zones, wastelands, dirty roadsides, fences, garage backyards and urine-smelling nooks and crannies he would have to overcome if he really didn’t have time.

00:58 on the taxi driver's clock changed to 00:59.

Victor slammed the door and ran into a deserted passage - towards drafts and snowy fogs.

He resisted with all his might. Wrestled with circumstances and the pathological bad luck of today, with deadly fatigue and damp cold, with the painful light of new energy-saving lamps that burn five times longer and seven times brighter than before. With a heavy rumble, blocking the roar of engines and a scattering of tram ringing. With emptiness, concealing corners and niches of doors recessed into the walls. With filthy columns, behind which shaped shadows fluctuated, dull reflections sliding along the walls, and with clouds of snow monsters, imposingly descending the st
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