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Als Sarah erwacht, liegt sie in einer dunklen einsamen Gasse. Sie rappelt sich mühsam auf und sieht sich um. Die schäbigen Häuserfassaden auf beiden Seiten sind so hoch, dass der Himmel darüber nicht mehr zu erkennen war und das Tageslicht gänzlich verschluckt wird. Vielleicht ist es auch gerade Nacht. Das einzige spärliche Licht kommt von vereinzelten Lampen über den Häusereingängen. Doch die meisten sind zerschlagen oder sehen so aus als ob sie schon seit Jahren nicht mehr gebrannt hätten. Bis auf eine dürre weisse Katze, die in den Mülleimern nach Essbarem sucht ist sie alleine. Sie schaut an sich herab. Ihre Kleider hängen ihr nur noch in Fetzen vom Körper. Immerhin verdecken sie noch das nötigste, wenn auch nur knapp. Sie versucht sich daran zu erinnern was passiert ist. Ihr Kopf beginnt bei den Gedanken zu schmerzen und sie gibt es schnell wieder auf. Als erstes will sie mal raus aus dieser angsteinflössenden Gasse. Nur wie? Aus der einen Richtung der Gasse kann sie einen schwachen Lichtschimmer erkennen, in der anderen herrscht vollkommene Dunkelheit.

Wagt sie sich Richtung Licht, wo sie mit ihren Kleidern vermutlich viel Aufsehen erregen würde, oder geht sie in die dunkle Gasse, wo sie sich vielleicht erstmal ruhig über ihre Situation klar werden kann?

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“Hands up, chin down!” my voice booms through the boxing club. I have barked out these words a million times. Instructions that were also barked out at me a million times by my coach, for the first few years of my training when I was a teenager. Three loud electronic buzzes signal the end of the training session. “Good work ladies and gentlemen. See you at the next class,” I announce, dismissing the class. I am fifty four years old. Outside of work, I train and teach at my friend’s boxing club...

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“Hands up, chin down!” my voice booms through the boxing club. I have barked out these words a million times. Instructions that were also barked out at me a million times by my coach, for the first few years of my training when I was a teenager. Three loud electronic buzzes signal the end of the training session. “Good work ladies and gentlemen. See you at the next class,” I announce, dismissing the class. I am fifty four years old. Outside of work, I train and teach at my friend’s boxing...

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