6.
It's a cold Saturday afternoon in late October when things slowly begin to unravel, and for all that Elsa has been expecting the worst, it still manages to sneak up on her.
The library is closed for repairs, something about a leaky roof, so Elsa is sitting on her bed next to a thick copy of Aristotle's Metaphysics, opened to the pages assigned for class. She hasn't gotten very far. The room is a bit too warm for real studying. It's making her head fuzzy. Instead, she's gotten distracted trying to re-dress the burns on her thigh. They have finally closed up enough to scab over, making the whole process a lot less painful, and really she's just happy she'll be able to wear tight jeans again.
Elsa's wadding up the old bandages and delicately smearing on a new layer of aloe vera gel when her phone starts to buzz on the desk. She reaches out blindly, fumbling until she happens upon the device, and answers without looking, expecting to hear Sam's cheerful voice asking if she wants to get dinner. Instead, she hears her mother's voice, and her stomach flips. She's already dreading the conversation she knows they're going to have.
"Hi, honey."
Elsa takes a shaky breath and reluctantly caps the burn gel. "Hi, Mom."
How's school going?"
"Fine." She glances at the Arendelle U. calendar above her desk and scans the dates, finding the one circled in red pen. "I just had midterms."
"Oh, good," her mother says, politely. "How'd they go?"
"Fine. I'm not worried."
"Your grades have always been good."
"Yeah." She drops her gaze to the roll of gauze in her hand. "How are you?"
"I'm okay. Work's been stressful. You know, not too much to complain about."
Elsa's eyes squeeze shut. "Yeah."
"I'm going to visit your father's grave this weekend. It's coming up on one year."
The spool of gauze slips from her fingers and tumbles onto the bedspread. "I know."
"I'm not expecting you to go… I'm just putting it out there."
Elsa's stomach rolls, and she tastes the acrid flavor of bile on her tongue. Outside her window, the first snow of the season is falling. Another cold winter is scheduled for the northeastern states, and it's so fitting, so reminiscent of that time, that she can feel herself slipping, even as she tries desperately to hold on.
"Don't," she says, with unexpected force. "Please."
"Elsa-"
"Don't put it out there," she snaps. "Don't tell me about it. I don't want to hear about it."
Her mother is silent for a long time, maybe a couple minutes. Elsa doesn't count. She doesn't break the silence. They are standing toe to toe, and Elsa refuses to back down. She'd pull the trigger again. She wants her mother to know that.
"Okay."
Elsa's chin quivers, walls crumbling suddenly and unexpectedly. "I killed him," she whispers. "I shot him point blank in the face. How can you ask me to visit him when I'm the one-"
"-It's okay, baby."
"Mom, please-"
"-It's okay, Elsa. It's okay, baby."
Her eyes burn, and her throat is so tight that she can't swallow her tears. "How is any of this fucking okay?"
"It wasn't your fault," her mother insists, as if that makes anything better. "You were just trying to protect us."
Elsa's heart stops.
She wants to scream.
Because it doesn't. It doesn't make anything better. It doesn't fix a single thing. Her mom still doesn't get it, can't see what's right in front of her.
Won't.
Elsa hangs up the phone, silences it, and chucks it on her desk. The snow is coming down harder. Flat white flakes flicker between the blinds as she curls herself into a ball. She bites down her knuckles and lets the tears trickle over her fingers.
It's the first time they've talked since August, and it's still about him.
/-/-/-/-/
She wakes up in the dark hours later to find that someone has covered her with a blanket. The gauze and the aloe vera have been placed on the desk next to her bed, and a few of Anna's items have shifted around. The yellow scarf that was hanging on the peg behind the door is gone. Her boots, left in a pile next to her bed are also gone. Anna's closet door, the one that Elsa is always closing, has been left open again.
Elsa lifts her head, groggily, and spies the mascara stain on her comforter. Her head is heavy and sore, like it's full of mucus. Shifting over onto her back, she reaches down below her bunched up track shorts to feel the uncovered lattice of burns on her bare thigh, the ones she hadn't finished dressing before the call.
Which means...
Fuck.
/-/-/-/-/
The nightmares return sometime in the early morning hours.
Elsa wanders the Arendelle campus in an orange jumpsuit, chasing down faceless, shrieking students with a shotgun. Hot, steaming blood splatters across her face, freezing instantly in the cold as bodies fall all around her.
When she turns she finds a crimson trail of corpses behind her, and it brings a wrathful smile to her gruesome face.
She screams herself awake.
The blankets won't come off fast enough. She's twisted in the sheets and covered in sweat, and her heart is pounding like a jackhammer. She cries with relief when she wipes her face and it comes back clean. It feels so real every time, the hot gun barrel, the stiff recoil, the metallic click of shells against concrete.
And nothing feels more real than the satisfaction.
She pulls on her shoes and goes for a run.
/-/-/-/-/
The library is closed all weekend, but Elsa is too anxious to stay in the room, so she calls Sam and arranges a Sunday night Netflix marathon, just so she can stay out a little later. Sunday is the one night a week that Anna is most often home, however briefly, and though she refuses to admit it to herself, Elsa is most definitely avoiding her. She even packs a toothbrush and a pair of pjs in case she's too chicken to walk home.
Outside, the snow is coming down as hard as ever. The path into campus is churned up with tracks that are rapidly freezing again, and the grassy lawns are full of lopsided snowmen with odd props wearing ridiculous hats and cast-off clothing. Arendelle's student body has taken to the storm with gusto, and the shouts of a distant snowball fight carry up the hill from the pond behind her dorm. Weather forecasters across the region are making headlines with exclamatory declarations about the lake effect snow coming too early, and preliminary preparations for the coldest winter ever. Elsa smiles and catches a flake on her tongue.
She kind of likes it.
She likes the electric buzz of anticipation, the way perfect strangers can bond and become instant friends as soon as the weather turns bad.
If some people are made for the sun, then Elsa is made for the snow, and so, it seems, is Sam. She meets Elsa at the front steps of Halmoni Hall dressed optimistically in a hoodie and a fleece hat.
"You sure you won't be cold?" Elsa asks dryly, because she's not actually sure whether this is supposed to be some sort of Minnesotan display of bravado, and she wouldn't put it past Sam to do something as ridiculous.
"It's just up the hill," Sam scoffs.
"It's a ten minute walk!"
"Oh, c'mon. Eight at best."
Elsa rolls her eyes. "You have longer legs, alright? Go easy on the little people."
They make it to the dining hall in twelve because Elsa keeps sliding, and Sam takes advantage of the opportunity to lecture her about purchasing proper winter boots. It's as annoying as it is endearing. Jenny was always of the opinion that Elsa could take care of herself, and recently her mother has been just a little too distracted to notice the things that Elsa keeps from her. So, it's kind of nice to have someone fret. She's actually smiling as they knock the snow off their boots in front of the glass doors and tromp inside out of the cold.
"Pack in extra tater tots and stuff," Sam says, scanning her badge quickly and descending on the food. "We'll need the munchies for later."
Elsa grabs a tray and a pair of silverware. "They won't let us get to-go boxes if we're eating here."
"It's Sunday!" Sam calls from down the line, piling pasta and ham onto her plate. "They don't care! They're just trying to get rid of stuff before the next shipment comes in tomorrow!"
Glancing sidelong at the cashier, who is studiously filing her nails over the register, Elsa snatches a plate and a styrofoam container, and rushes to catch up. "What all do you want?"
"I dunno. Fries, tots, cereal, pancakes-"
"Pancakes?"
"Yeah, sure, why not!"
"How about french bread sticks?" Elsa stops in front of the depleted breakfast station.
Sam just waves her approval from the dessert cart. Apparently it doesn't really matter to the human garbage disposal. She just grabs whatever finger-food she can as she makes her way through the rest of the line.
"So, I kind of have a surprise for us," Elsa admits, hesitantly, once they've sat down at one of the long, empty tables near the panoramic windows.
"Oh, yeah?" Sam stuffs a steaming lump of mashed potatoes into her mouth. "Whassat?"
"Um, so… earlier, when I was picking up the room a bit, I found a…" Elsa glances around furtively and lowers her voice. "I found a bottle of vodka on the floor."
Sam nearly chokes on her potatoes. "What?" She swallows hastily, eyes watering. "Really?"
"Yeah, it's only half-full, but-"
"-Is it Anna's?"
Elsa frowns. "It's obviously not mine."
"Whoa, dude!" Sam leans back in her chair, clearly impressed. "And you just brought it with you? Does she know you have it?"
"No."
"That's pretty ballsy. What're you gonna do if she comes looking for it?"
Elsa shrugs. Initially, she had snatched up the bottle in a fit of annoyance. What was Anna thinking? What if an RA came by and found it? It was a small probability, but it still wasn't worth the risk. They would both get fined, and be slapped with an alcohol citation that would land Elsa on the probation list and jeopardize her scholarship. It didn't make sense at all, especially when Anna could stash everything at her boyfriend's place without consequence. Why would she even bring booze back to the dorm in the first place? Was she really that haphazard? Absent minded? And then, to just leave it on the floor of the room like that without a thought.
It didn't add up.
"I'll tell her I had to dump it because the RA came by."
Sam smirks. "Nice."
"Yeah."
"I still can't believe you just took it. That seems so unlike you, Elce. Stealing your roommate's illegal shit like a boss."
Elsa rolls her eyes and digs into her food. "I was mad that she brought it back to the dorm and left it out in the first place. It's so stupid. Like, even she can't be that stupid, right?"
"I dunno. She sounds like one of those messy people." Sam douses a broccoli floret in mayonnaise. "Like, a hot mess."
"You're not just talking about Mt. Laundry-more."
"No. I mean the whole thing." Sam makes a big circle with her arms. "The whole ooey-gooey package."
Elsa makes a face at her lasagna. "Speaking of ooey-gooey."
"I told you not to get it. The lasagna's always gross here."
"Everything's gross here."
"No, it's not. You're just in a mood." Sam ditches the broccoli and takes a bite of her brownie, tilting her head thoughtfully. "You know, actually, you're pretty much always in a bad mood when the subject of Anna comes up. Maybe you need a new roommate."
Elsa starts to agree and then catches herself. The thought doesn't really make her any happier.
"I don't know." She scrunches her brow and stares vacantly at her tray.
"Just think about it," Sam replies, licking her thumb. "You nearly bite my head off every time you bring it up."
Elsa feels simultaneously both confused and annoyed for what has to be the hundredth time in two months. It's not that having a cleaner, tidier roommate wouldn't be nice, because it would actually be really, really nice. She's nearly twisted her ankle at least three times tripping over junk on the floor, and it's become a regular chore to make sure Anna's piles don't migrate onto her side of the room, but there's just something about her redheaded, human-disaster of a roommate that she's not ready to give up.
Elsa's eyes widen as she comes to a sudden realization.
She's intrigued.
Anna's smile is so bright and disarming, but Elsa knows there's more there. She can sense it lurking underneath, the subtle buzz of static in a clear signal. Anna is enigmatic. She's a mystery that Elsa never has time to solve, and maybe, maybe, that's why her roommate is so flighty. Maybe she knows that Elsa can feel it. Maybe she knows that Elsa is watching. Maybe she is trying to hide something, and if there's anyone who knows about hiding it's Elsa.
Elsa is a monster hiding in plain sight.
Because of Anna, there are things she coming to realize about herself, unsettling things, disquieting things. Elsa knows now that she's jealous. It's completely weird and it feels all wrong because she's never really been a jealous person. She wants to deny it, write it off as a fluke, but she can't. Something about Anna seems to inspire it in her. She absolutely hates that Hans gets all of Anna's time, that Anna can't spare an hour or two with her just to talk, to get to know her. Sure, it might be Elsa's fault for being a bitch those first couple weeks, but since then Anna has hardly given her a chance to make up for it. It's driving her up a wall. This feeling of jealousy is under her skin and it's burrowing deeper all the time. She can't shake it anymore.
"You like her, don't you?"
Elsa's head snaps up. "What?"
"Yeah." Sam smiles knowingly. "I know what that's like. You think you're friends with someone, but then they never make time for you. It sucks."
Elsa has to blink three times in rapid succession and breathe slowly in and out before she realizes what Sam means. Which...what the hell. What else would Sam mean?
"I...just wish she'd talk to me sometimes," Elsa says, slowly, carefully gauging Sam's reaction as she speaks. "She's not so bad in person. Just messy."
"Makes sense." Sam polishes off her first brownie and moves on to the next. "Well, how about you just tell her that?"
"I've got a better idea. How about we go watch Netflix and drink vodka instead?"
Sam laughs and gathers up her stuff. "You know I'm definitely not opposed."
They navigate the weather and eat tater tots while they watch Bob's Burgers on Sam's bed. Sam only seems to like cartoons, and Elsa doesn't really care what they watch anyway. She's having too much fun laughing along and passing the bottle, letting the warmth of vodka settle on her raw nerves like the snow that's building up on the ledge outside.
/-/-/-/-/
She spends the night sleeping head to foot in Sam's room and gets up early to make the walk of shame across campus, hair swirled up into a messy bun, flannel pajama bottoms tucked into her boots. The sun is just peaking above the clouds and everything is covered in a flawless, sparkling blanket of snow. Even the path, turbid and disturbed yesterday evening, has been covered overnight, and she hears the distinct sound of shovels scraping against concrete as a groundskeepers work to clear the walkway of building up the hill. They've gotten more than a foot since Saturday. Snow drifts have gathered up against tree trunks and curbsides, their summits peaking against the light, casting deep blue shadows in their wake. Red-breasted robins flit from branch to branch, sending showers of snow and ice down onto the path below. Elsa smiles faintly and kicks the powder in front of her as she walks, chipping away at jagged ridges of ice left by old bootprints beneath the fresh layer of white.
It doesn't really bother her that she's a bit hungover. The air is crisp and bracing, and the cold feels good on her clammy skin. She sucks down one deep breath after another, hoping to settle her stomach before class, wishing there were some way to bottle the feeling in her chest. Her body is always lightest when the weight has been momentarily lifted.
She takes a detour around the pond to stretch her walk out just a little bit longer.
Anna is asleep in her bed when Elsa creeps through the door, arm hanging listlessly off the mattress. She's covered herself loosely with a blanket and stuffed her head under a pillow, but she's still wearing tight black jeans and combat boots, as though she'd stumbled in the door and literally collapsed into bed. It freezes Elsa for a moment. Her heart skips a beat, and she has to catch herself against the closet door, world spinning a bit, even still. She glances around at the room and notices a fresh trail of items leading to Anna's bed. There's a bag of Swedish Fish spilling out onto the carpet, an empty can of Monster, a lighter, a bomber jacket that must belong to Hans, and…cigarettes? She spies a green bikini top hanging from the bathroom door and squints at it.
That's weird.
Anna had seemed so naive at first. Elsa isn't sure what to make of the scene in front of her. Is her roommate some kind of Delta Chi groupie now?
She chews her lip and tries to imagine Anna mashing red solo cups with a room full of fraternity bros, tight, black jeans stretching across her narrow hips as she cheers over a victorious beer pong shot...
A loud knock at the door startles Elsa so badly that she loses her balance. The loose closet door creaks as steadies herself. She clutches her chest and looks around, confused as the knocking starts up again. Anna hasn't even stirred in her bed.
"Coming!" Elsa says quickly.
She turns, slowly to hold off the nausea, and answers the door.
"Hans!" she exclaims, surprised.
"Elsa." He smiles lightly, and looks her over. "Good morning."
"Um, hi."
"I like this look." He smirks, and Elsa notices that he is already showered and ready for the day, dressed smartly in blue parka, slim black trousers, and leather boots. "It's sort of...Midnight-Target-Run Chic."
Elsa rolls her eyes and glances over her shoulder at the motionless lump in the other bed. Hans cranes his neck and peers around her.
"She's not up yet?" He wrinkles his nose and checks his watch. "But I made sure to come 10 minutes late."
"She seems a little worse for wear," Elsa muses slowly.
Hans snorts. "I bet. You're not looking so hot yourself."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, nothing." He holds up both hands and winks. "Just that I'm pretty sure Anna isn't the only one who had too much fun last night."
Elsa's eyes narrow in suspicion. Is he talking about the vodka…?
"Are you always a jerk?" she snaps. "Or just when I'm around?"
He stuffs his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. "Cool your jets, kujo. I'm only messing with you. Can I come in or are you just gonna make me stand out here all morning?"
"I'm seriously thinking about it."
"Aw, you wouldn't."
"You really overestimate how much I like you."
Hans has the decency to look a tiny bit wounded. "Seriously, Elsa? What did I ever do to you, huh? You've hated me since day one."
The twinge of guilt she feels is immediately drowned out by the sound of Anna squeaking as she falls off the bed. Elsa glances over her shoulder and immediately makes eye contact with the furtive redhead, splayed out on the floor with mascara smeared all over her face. A silent exchange passes between them. She knows, instinctively, that Anna does not want her to let Hans inside.
Elsa whips around and fills up the doorway as much as she can.
"It's your sideburns," she says dryly. "They're totally ridiculous. I want to shave them off so bad that it fills me with rage whenever I see them."
Hans frowns. "Don't knock the burns."
"I'd really like to knock them off your face."
"You're seriously kind of crazy, you know that?"
Elsa rolls her eyes. "And you're seriously kind of unlikeable. Wait here, please. Anna is changing."
She goes to close the door in his face and Hans tries to stop it with his foot. "Wait-!"
"-Outside!" Elsa commands, and slams the door.
When she turns back around, a moment later, Anna is trying to peel off her skin tight jeans, and Elsa falls back against the door, fully unprepared to deal with the sight of Anna's bare legs, toned and creamy white, slender rising through the knees, bulging with lean muscle around her thighs. Elsa's eyes slide up and around her ass, a full, delicate curve of smooth skin, covered with nothing but a flimsy black thong. Soon, even that obstruction is gone. Anna stumbles out of her pants and quickly strips off the thong, turning to give Elsa a full view of her womanly charms from behind. It's like a taking a punch right in the gut from Mike Tyson. Anna's butt is amazingly round and cute, and there are freckles, and dimples, and it's practically magnetic. The gift of speech leaves Elsa for a full five seconds before she recovers enough sense to close her eyes.
But it's too late. Her limbs are frozen and she's hot all over, everywhere that veins run and blood flows. Elsa hears the telltale pounding in her ears, feels the shortness of breath in her lungs, and guesses that she's moments away from a full blown panic attack.
"Oh! Sorry, Elce."
She flinches. Anna's voice hits her like a bolt of electricity, frying her nerves, and shorting her fuse. A uncontrollable shudder rolls up her spine. Elsa bites the inside of her cheek to hold in the moan that threatens to spill out into the room.
"You can look now." Anna snorts softly. "I'm wearing clothes."
Elsa cracks one eyelid to check, then slowly opens the second. Anna is smiling at her coyly in lacy purple leggings and a dark green dress. Her makeup is still smeared, and her hair is still tangled, but she is absolutely beautiful. The smouldering look in her warm, blue eyes says she knows it. It burns a hole through Elsa's chest and buries itself somewhere deep. She is positively, ridiculously, embarrassingly, slack-jawed at the sight.
Her roommate's smile dims imperceptibly. "You okay?"
"Uh, yeah, uh…" Elsa's throat bobs. She peels her back away from the door and goes to sit on her bed. "I just wasn't prepared for uh…"
"Nudity?"
"Yeah."
"You're kind of a prude, huh?" Anna laughs as she turns and sails into the bathroom, twisting the squeaky hot water knob to start the tap.
Elsa just sits on her bed and stares into space.
Maybe she is kind of a prude.
/-/-/-/-/
She continues to stare into space for most of her first two classes.
The only thing she writes in her notebook are the names of a couple presidents and, 'my brain is a pile of slush' in all caps.
She doesn't snap out of it until lunch, when Sam starts waving a hand in her face.
/-/-/-/-/
Anna returns again later that evening, storming into the room with snowflakes melting on her clothes and a hot pink beanie pulled low over her wild, red hair.
"Oh my god!" she exclaims, loudly, tripping over her own boots as she stumbles to her bed and flops down. "I am so flippin' exhausted!"
Elsa, who has been quietly watching Netflix in her sweats, sits up with a start and clutches her blanket to her chest. "Jesus, Anna!"
"Oh, sorry!" Anna's pink cheeks flush a deeper red, and Elsa just stares. "God, I'm so loud. You must hate me."
Elsa clears her throat once, then twice, and finally just decides to change the subject to the question that has been bothering her for months. Sam said to just talk to her, right? Elsa takes the plunge.
"Where do you go all the time?" She asks, fiddling awkwardly with her braid. "Hans' place?"
Anna, for some reason, looks distinctly embarrassed. She leans forward, with a groan, and begins to unlace her boots. "Sometimes."
"Sometimes?"
"Yeah."
"What about the other times. Do you sleep on park benches?"
"Okay," she faces Elsa, blushing furiously, "most of the time."
Elsa quirks a brow.
"Okay, okay, so all the time."
"He must fuck like a pornstar," Elsa snipes, and then, almost immediately, her hand flies to her mouth.
She can't believe she just said that.
Anna doesn't laugh.
"Um…" the redhead eyes her cautiously, like she's ticking bomb, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. "Is everything okay?"
Elsa scrambles out of bed and stands, awkwardly, looking around for her shoes. The room is cold beyond the confines of her cozy blankets, and she immediately shivers. Cold is good. Like a cold shower. She'll just run downstairs to the vending machine for a soda or something, clear her head. Without warning, a vision of Anna, naked from the waist down, flashes through her mind for the fiftieth time that day, and she flushes all over. Where are her shoes? She really just needs to clear her head.
Anna is wide-eyed now, watching her hyperventilate with more than a little concern on her face. "I don't want to pry or anything. I'm not like, trying to be nosy, but you just...don't seem… Um, I saw some…on your..."
Elsa freezes and turns to look at her. Anna's head is down, chin brushing her clavicle like she's ashamed of something, a child put in timeout. It's adorably tragic. Elsa's heart skips and slows.
"You saw what?" she asks, biting her lip.
Anna sighs. "Do you not like me?" She lifts her gaze. "I mean, I know I'm a mess," she glances forlornly at the piles of the clothes on and around her bed, the forest of cosmetic bottles on the vanity. "I know I keep odd hours, and I'm super busy- I'm really sorry about that, by the way -but, it seems like I've done something to offend you, and if I have, please just tell me what it is so I don't do it again."
"I..." Elsa pauses, and realizes that she doesn't know what to say.
She is pissed at Anna, isn't she? Sam had basically pushed her to get a new roommate, since she's spent so much time complaining about it, but that isn't what she wants. It isn't what she's looking for. She doesn't really know what she's looking for. If she's being completely honest, she isn't even sure what she's mad about.
She huffs and drops down onto her bed, golden braid bouncing against her chest. She clasps her hands between her knees and stares resolutely at the floor, as though she could divine some kind of answer from the industrial grey and blue stitching.
"I think we just got off on the wrong foot," she mumbles. "I don't know."
"We're really different," Anna muses.
Elsa looks ups, surprised by her candor. "Different how?"
Anna laughs nervously and rubs the back of her neck. "Are you kidding?"
"No, not really."
She wrings her hands. "I mean, you're gorgeous, and smart, and you're always cool and collected and tidy." Anna gazes helplessly at her mismatching, pink and green snowflake socks. "And I'm like, totally awkward and messy and disorganized."
"What?" Elsa shakes her head. "You're not awkward."
"C'mon, I totally am!"
"No way! You have a boyfriend and you go to parties and stuff, right?"
"That doesn't mean anything-"
"Yeah, it does! I mean, I don't have a boyfriend, and I definitely don't go to parties."
"Definitely not," her roommate mumbles.
Stung, Elsa shakes her head and looks away.
Anna sighs. "How about we just start over?" She smiles, coaxing a faint chuckle out of Elsa. "Let's just hang out or something."
"Okay. What should we do?"
"I don't know. What do awesomely cool people do when they hang out?"
Elsa smirks and glances at her laptop. "Do you wanna watch Netflix?"
"Fuck yes." Anna strips out of her coat in the blink of an eye and pads across the room. "Move over," she says, plopping down on the bed. "What are we watching?"
"Sherlock." Elsa settles back against the wall, and her heart skips a beat when Anna cuddles up against her side.
She's starting to think she has a heart murmur.
"I've heard good things," Anna says, yawning.
"Yeah, I've only just started, but I like it." Elsa fingers are tingling, and she curls them once, twice, to dispel the feeling.
"Have you read the books?"
"Yeah."
"I've always wanted to." Anna yawns again and scoots closer, pulling a stray blanket over them. "I just never seem to have the patience for books."
Elsa leans forward to restart the show, mindful of the warm body shifting against her side. "All the best things are worth waiting for."
"Yeah." Anna lets her fingers curl against Elsa's waist. "Maybe."
They watch an episode together in comfortable silence.
/-/-/-/-/
