The fog in Storm City had dissipated. It was evening now, and the shimmer of the Tamas River under the setting sun was finally clear to see.
A young man arrived at an old, run-down, small inn. The inn had no front desk, only the owner watching over the place while smoking a cheap cigarette. He sized up the newcomer, who wore a stiff-brimmed newsboy cap and work clothes.
'This is a young lad from the countryside, using his parents' savings to try his luck in the big city. First thing he did was buy himself a new outfit. People like him don't stay in my inn more than a few days before they resign themselves to moving to the suburbs, sleeping in a communal room with fellow workers near the docks or a factory.' The owner took another look. The young man had a well-proportioned build, his visible arms lean yet muscular. 'He's got the body for hard labor.'
"A room."
