| 第 1 页：英语原文 |
| 第 2 页：中文翻译 |
One night, I had just finished locking all the doors on the way up, had turned out the lights to the 6th floor and was heading down the hall to finish up the building and get the heck outta Dodge. About halfway down the hall it turned very cold (which I didn't think too much of really since it was mid-December in Colorado, and the heating system in the building was blotchy at best) so I stopped to zip up my coat when I heard a very distinct female voice say, "Where are you going?”
Thinking that the voice came from a paralegal or accountant working late I said, "Nowhere Ma'am, I am just locking up for the night." Then it got REALLY hairy! I felt on my right shoulder, through a thick parka, shirt, bullet proof vest, and T-shirt the coldest hand I have ever felt touch my skin. It was distinctly a hand, and right against my skin. It was so cold it literally burned me, much like dry ice. A fact later to be confirmed by the Sergeant and Corporal who were on duty with me at the time. They said there was a deep red mark on my shoulder that looked like a hand.
