Frozen Lies, Pink Truth
Language: en
Cold, biting wind whipped across my face. I gasped, my eyes snapping open. In front of me was a blindingly white ski slope, and a man stood right in my face, holding up his phone. He was gripping a ski pole, and caught on its sharp metal tip was a shred of pink fiber. I looked down at my left arm. My professional-grade ski jacket had been ripped open, leaving a long, nasty gash that exposed the high-tech insulation layer inside. ### 1 The man angled his phone camera directly at my face. "Look at this, guys," he sneered into his microphone. "This is exactly what’s wrong with the…