<span style="color: #BFFFFF">Yoeri didn't like the atmosphere of the school. She didn't like it one bit. It reminded her of sadness, but a foreign sadness that she had never felt before. A dark sadness. Not blue, just dark. She had a class to teach today, though, and she had a crisis before her that she had to get through, and she needed to find a supervisor that wasn't preoccupied with cops, so she tried to think of warmth. The warmth of alcohol. The warmth of her comforter. The warmth she felt when she was in college--when things were better. <br/><br/>The warmth of nostalgia had started to seep past her black blazer when she was bulldozed with a chill that she wanted to wash off of her body immediately. She didn't know which threw her backwards more--the impact with the petite girl before her or the instinct to flee from the cold. She held on tightly to the bag on her shoulder and flipped her hair out of her face with her other hand, ignoring the way she felt about the coldness when she saw the situation the student was in--on the floor with her books, trying to get everything back together. None of the passing students tried to help.<br/><br/>She was hit with a sense of guilt. Maybe she should have been watching where she was going. She was kneeling down immediately, grabbing some of the books, getting closer to the girl--further immersed in the chill. </span><span style="color: #80BFFF">"I'm so sorry," </span><span style="color: #BFFFFF">Yoeri said politely, glancing at the small, pale girl with genuine concern. She wondered if the child had ever seen the sun before. </span><span style="color: #80BFFF">"I was rushing and didn't see--are you okay?" </span><span style="color: #BFFFFF">With a small stack of books in her hands, she extended the pile to the girl, gazing at her with intent. </span><span style="color: #80BFFF">"Do you need help?"</span><span style="color: #BFFFFF"> The girl looked like she had to be twelve. What was she doing in this school during a crisis? Why was she in a place so cold? </span>