The minute the door opened, I felt too stunned to open my mouth, staring at her scorched and toilworn face under the glaring lamp, as if an ancient thread-bound book.
Walking up a path through the forest towards Shutlingsloe, a local high point, I came across a small clearing and immediately noticed the dead yellow grasses set against the fresh snow.
I did not know whether it was the new place, the burden of additional subjects, or my lack of interest, I found my grades ebbing away like the faded leaves in the town's Palm trees.