The streets were quieter than usual as Rowen walked home.
Everyone knew what tomorrow was.
Rowen pushed the door open and stepped inside the shop. The wooden sign on the door still said CLOSE. He flips the board to OPEN.
He dropped his bag behind the counter and sat on the stool. Outside, the street was quiet. Afternoon light streamed through the windows. He leaned forward, watching the road for a while—just in case someone wandered in.
No one came.
By the time the clock hit 8:00 PM, he was still alone. With a sigh, he stood up and flipped the sign to CLOSED.
He stretched his arms and headed up the stairs to the small apartment above the shop. The stairs creaked, but he was used to it.
In the kitchen, he grabbed what was left of last night's stew and heated it over the small stove. It was mostly potatoes and bits of dried meat, but it was enough.
