Ida faces the bracing wind, teetering and frail with nostalgia, fading into the bleak, greying horizon. Halting suddenly, she spots them, their bold uniform of choice is intimidating even though the sportswear fabric is soft and cushioned against their soles. The angled lines that have been carefully shaped in their faces are brutish and menacing; their gold details sparkling like fire in the softened sun.

She moves on, glancing briefly at her own attire and wishing that she was wearing her uniform too.