The alley smells of new rain and old piss.
The downpour has abated to the same fine mist that preceded it. But we’re both still soaked, as the disheveled man leads me further into the darkness. He shuffles along, shiny black shoes scuffing across the wet cobblestones. For some reason, I’m intrigued by the shoes and, hunched over just like him, I focus on each hesitant step he makes.
