I woke up sitting in a dark kitchen. Who am I? Where am I? What happened to me? I can't remember anything. It's dark and snowing outside the window.

I groped for a switch in the corridor. I'm standing in a common one-bedroom apartment. In the room, there's a partially opened blister pack lying on the desk. Did I actually take those pills? What are they? They're unlabeled. There's also a piece of paper with something written on it. "There's a cotton in my head..." Yeah, that's for sure. I should wait till morning, and maybe then things will become clear. I'm going to bed.

I can't fall asleep. The wall clock is ticking, but its hand is just twitching back and forth. It looks like the battery's dead. I've been lying in bed for quite a long time, but the sun is still not coming up. I can hear the clock ticking and the fridge humming in the kitchen. That's it. Wait, there's something else occasionally, something that sounds like footsteps on the stairs. But it's dead quiet behind the walls. It's strange because the walls in these houses typically allow you to hear everything your neighbors do. Everyone's probably still sleeping. I'm going to wait a while longer.

I still can't sleep. Hours seemed to pass, but there's still no sun. I'm done lying in bed. I went out on the balcony. Fifth floor... A snow-covered street beneath me. No cars. No people. Just street lamps. And another apartment house across the road. I still can't remember a single thing. Who am I? Is it my apartment? What happened before this day? No memory about my past at all.

I went into the kitchen. The fridge is full, but I don't feel like eating. There's a radio on the windowsill. It looks strange; I can't really tell why. As if... it's really obsolete. Or is it? I can't remember... I turn it on, and I can hear some words mixed with noise. A woman's voice. It's indistinct, saying something about death. And about forks. I didn't quite remember. The voice disappeared quickly, and only noise remained. I turned the radio off.

I think I saw a TV set in the room. I come back and turn it on. Something is cracking inside. The broadcast is distorted beyond recognition, but I can hear music playing. Probably a ballet. I'm going back to bed. Maybe something will change eventually.

I have no idea how much time passed. Maybe a whole day. There's no sun. The TV keeps playing the same music. Nothing is changing. I decided to go outside. Took a key from the desk, put a jacket and shoes on. It's quiet behind the apartment door. I go downstairs. The window between the third and the second floor is open, and the stairs are covered in snow.

I came into the yard. The sky is black, with no stars or moon. Perhaps it's too cloudy. Some windows are lit, but it's too quiet. There's nobody around. Everything is covered in snow. I go to the road. It's snowbound. There's a bus stop nearby. I go towards it to sit and wait. I'm waiting, but the bus doesn't come. There are no cars. There's nothing but the street lamps.

After sitting for God knows how long, I walk into the yard across the road. There are no people there, too - just more snow. The front doors are covered almost to the top. This doesn't look right. I come back to the bus stop.

I don't know how long I was waiting until I heard some noise and saw distant lights on the road. Something's coming but very slowly. I come closer and notice it's a snowplow. It's barely crawling. I think there's some... breath among the engine noise. Or whisper. Is it saying something? I'm trying to listen carefully, but it's suddenly gone. Maybe it was my imagination.

I decided to walk further. There are no other houses on the street. Nothing but trees and snow. A fog thickens as I keep walking. Soon, nothing can be seen. Nevertheless, I move on. I try to go straight ahead... but suddenly the fog starts to clear, and I can see the same bus stop and the same houses in front of me.

I didn't want to give up. I walked into the fog again and again. I went in all directions, along the road, away from the road... It didn't matter. Looks like I'm stuck here. Stuck in these two yards and the bus stop. And I can't leave.

I turned my thoughts to the snowplow. I was hoping the driver could somehow help me escape. I'm trying everything: waving, knocking, trying to open the door, climbing on the hood. But I'm ignored. I can't even see if there's anyone inside. I stand in the vehicle's way in despair, but it just pushes me away, slow as a lame snail.

Outraged, I'm hammering at the door, kicking it, ramming it. I want to smash it to bits. Looks like the vehicle is no longer going straight. Yes, I made it turn a little. It climbs a snowdrift and topples over. But it's still moving. It's lying on its side, but it's moving.

I feel scared. I run back into the house and start banging on the apartment doors on all floors. There's no reaction. As if the place is desolate. I can't think clearly anymore. I go into my apartment, open the balcony door and jump down into the snow. It's so soft. As if you fall on a heap of pillows. Damn it, I can't even die here...

The snowplow is now resting against the house wall. After a while, a second one appeared on the road, behaving the same as the first one. I toppled it over as well. I'm waiting for the third one.

I found a book in the trash chute. Each page has just one phrase written on it, some meaningless flow of words. It looks like the phrases change when you reopen the book. It's hard to tell; the pages are unnumbered.

I'm trying everything I can. I microwaved a piece of soap. I cooked the radio in an oven. I learned how to somersault into the snow from the balcony. I tried to turn on all faucets and flood the apartment, but I don't have any drain plugs. I noticed one more pack of pills in the bathroom and emptied it, but there's no effect. While wondering what else I can come up with, I throw a toilet paper roll in the toilet. I flush it. It goes down the drain and vanishes.

I'm trying to flush two more rolls. It's strange, but they seem to shrink to pass through. I should try it with something else. I take a kettle from the kitchen and drop it in the toilet. It squeezes as if it's made of rubber and disappears in the drain hole.

I'm trying again and again. Food, spoons, plates, bowls, cups, pots... The toilet swallows everything. I take an umbrella from the hallway. It wiggles like a snake and slips into the hole. Just as dumbbells from the room. Just as a garbage bag from the stairs. Just as skis from the balcony. Just as a stool...

Now I know what I have to do. I don't know if I've been thrown in hell, or in purgatory, or nirvana, or whatever. I don't know why. I don't know what awaits me, but I can't stay here any longer. I have to try. My feet are already in the toilet. My finger is on the flush button. I'm finishing these notes in case someone else ends up here.

If there's nothing else written, then I've made it...