He peeked outside from the cracked glass panel on the doorframe of the blacksmith’s shop. The rain had gotten considerably more severe. If he went out like this, the rain would no doubt, make him dripping wet.

It seemed he would have to spend some more time here after all, some more exploration of the place was the optimum solution. Since this was a blacksmith’s shop, there had to be some sort of hearth used for forging metal.

One thing that had been irking him for a while, was the heavy dust inside, so many layers of dust accumulated, that he was leaving footprints on the ground as if he had walked on snow. The cloth he had wrapped around his nose and mouth earlier was doing a fine job keeping most of the dust particles from reaching his system.

He spotted the hearth in one the corners of the store, cold as expected.

For a moment he wondered the past of this store. Perhaps many clients came here asking for tools, weapons and materials for their day to day life. The hammer of the blacksmith striking hot iron, producing that distinct sound in the process, the embers scattering away with each strike.

He wasn’t being sentimental, not in the least.

It was just, that memories was all he had, and imagining how these lifeless places looked in their prime was all he had to go for. The current memories were always of the same stale and grey colours.

Many people chose different things to keep clinging on to their sanity. They started new hobbies, as limited as they were, all just to keep that sense of normality alive.

For himself though, only memories remained.

He couldn’t get into anything minuscule, such as a hobby, instead, his lone pleasure was imagining the world before the fall, that and enjoying the moments without the rain.

He noticed a cupboard beside the hearth, it seemed to be an old wooden cupboard you would find anywhere. It was locked shut, however, he didn’t have to look for the key. The termites had done a fair job of eating the wood, rendering it almost hollow. He shuffled through his belongings and took out the iron rod he had bagged earlier during his vain expedition of the store.

“Alright, here’s your turn buddy”, he spoke out loud.

He had developed a habit of always speaking out loud. It wasn’t like anyone could hear him; the real reason however, was the he disliked the suffocating silence, accompanied by the faint buzzing sound in his ears. The distinct sound of silence.

“Okay, heads up”, he said as he made a batting stance.

The wooden door of the cupboard easily scattered apart after a few swings. The dirt hadn’t accumulated inside much as compared to the outside. He found a thick fabric, perhaps a shroud, but the most important find was the few flint stones sitting in there.

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“Nice”, he made a snarky comment.

He could use the thick fabric as a shroud, and finally leave this pile of a dust store.

As he left the door of the store, he shuddered slightly due to the cold. Taking this as a cue, he made a basic shroud around him with the fabric he had found.

“Finally, let’s go”, he made a relived sound and started walking towards the wholesale store.

Perhaps his sentences were filled over exaggerated emotions. But to him expressing emotions in his voice was important, it kept away the loneliness he suffered from. To mask the fact that he was alone, he constantly talked to himself, it kept him engaged in human interactions and kept the boredom away as a plus.

“So many scattered motorcars, I do wonder what kind of people used these”, he made a comment about the various motorcars on the road, now rusting due to the constant rain. He rubbed the raindrops from the window pane of a motorcar to look inside, the reflection displayed his usual tired self. Inside on the back seat there was nothing out the ordinary, just some rotting bottles and plastic bags.

He looked at the mirror attached to the side of the car.

“This will definitely come in handy”, he said, pocketing the mirror. He liked collecting various trivial things he found out in the wild. Some would argue that this counts as a hobby, but to him it was just a proof of his travels.

He vaulted over the small divider and started walking on the path meant for pedestrians. He was walking back to the wholesale store hurriedly, the rain didn’t seem to be diminishing and he had a hunch it would get only worse. He passed the worn down sign board he had passed by earlier.

“Good”, he could see outline of the building he was headed to now.

Even though he had tried his best to take small steps and avoided he small puddles, his pants had still gotten slightly wet. He would need to make a fire to heat them a bit, that would surely fix the problem.

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As soon as he entered the store he took off his shoes, his socks were now slightly damp and he hated that feeling. He really needed to mend his shoes.

The wholesale store was a massive building, comprising of two floors. The ground floor was used for parking purposes for the motorcars, and the other consisted of all sorts of goods, from food to all sort of miniscule products used for daily life.

He lit the gas lamps he had nailed to the walls as he passed by them. He had used the tools available from the store itself to fix the lamps. After all, he was tired of using his flashlight to venture inside, and feeling like a burglar every time. With these lighting resources, the store had some of that “Homey” feeling now, as he liked to call it.

With a lantern in his hands, he made his way to the corner of the store he called his room. It was nothing fancy, just a mattress he had shamelessly pillaged and his chosen few belongings he used for travelling between longer distances.

After changing into wearing warm clothes, he tried to make a fire by flint stones. He had gathered some dry bushes and branches from his previous trips. He doused a small cloth in gas, and placed it upon the nest of bushes and branches he had made. He struck the two stones together at about thirty degrees, and created a few sparks. He tried that a few more times until the fire was lit.

He placed his damp clothes around the fire and sat down, looking at the brilliant fire before him, hearing its crackles. He was lost in thought when he remembered he had a book in his bag about constellations, he took out the book and just stared at its title.

He felt as if the title was made just for mocking him.

“This should be fun”, with a sigh he opened the book.