A Storm

It was cloudy tonight. There was no stars or moon but only pitch darkness above the small town. Some lonely and dim lamp light spread out from the drawing and calligraphy store at the end of the street. When it came to the liquor store it could barely light up people's faces.

The Drunkard was dust-stained. But there was no blood on him. Obviously he had been to many places in the past few days. Yet he was not anxious. Because he even took a bath and changed his clothes.