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It's cold, wet, dark. There is a storm and wet blobs of snow come down. My spotlights poke reproachfully into the white gunk. It is a quarter to eleven as in '22.45 .XNUMX '. I am tired and alone on the road and twenty minutes from home. And I have to pee a lot. The water is up to my lips, but before I have found my cold person in hiding in this misery behind five layers of textile? I don't want to think about it and accelerate a bit.