“The hospital corridor smelled of bleach and pearl barley soup. Metal gurneys clanged and fragments of nurses' conversations could be heard abruptly. On a wall painted a dreary yellow - and why do hospitals always paint the walls with this paint? - Occasionally, luminous zigzags ran from the headlights of cars passing under the window. Marina Grigorievna rose from her chair, leaning on her right leg, walked to the window and drew the curtains tighter. It became almost completely dark in the room, only a bluish, deathly light leaked through the glassed rectangle above the door...”