The barbecue restaurant finally closed its doors after midnight. By the time I cleaned the last table, my bones felt like they were made of glass. I caught the very last night bus, sliding into a sticky, empty seat in the back. I only meant to close my eyes for a second, but the hum of the engine pulled me into a deep, heavy sleep. I didn't wake up until the driver shook my shoulder at the final stop.
I stumbled off the bus, rubbing my puffy eyes. The world was freezing. To get to my inn, I had to walk up a long, steep hill and then turn into a maze of narrow, dark alleys. My body felt like lead. Every step was a battle against gravity. At this hour, the city was dead. No lights came from the windows of the tall buildings, and the streetlights were so dim they barely reached the cracked pavement.
