A traveler walks in a cold, dark town at night. He is looking for a cheap room. He is tired and cold. His feet hurt. He wants to sleep soon. The wind is strong and cold on his face. There are no people on the street. It is very quiet. He walks slowly and looks around. He feels a little worried, but he is too tired to think about it much. He pulls his coat tighter around him. His bag feels heavy in his hand. He has walked a long way today. His shoes are wet from the cold ground.
The traveler came to this town by train. He does not know anyone here. He is here for work. Tomorrow, he must go to a new office. He needs a place to sleep tonight. He thinks about a big hotel he saw near the train station. But that hotel looked expensive. He wants to find something cheaper. He also wants a quiet place to rest before his big day. He is a little nervous about it. He wants his new boss to like him.
He walks past many houses. They are all dark. No lights are on. He starts to feel more tired. His legs hurt now, too. He thinks maybe he should just go back to the expensive hotel. But then something catches his eye.
He sees a small house with a warm light in the window. He stops and looks at it. He walks closer and looks inside. He sees a nice room with a fire. The room looks warm and cozy. There are soft chairs and a small table. He sees a bird in a cage too. He sees a small dog sleeping by the fire. Everything looks calm and peaceful. He feels happy when he sees this. He decides to knock quietly on the door. He thinks this house looks better than a noisy hotel.
Before he knocks, he sees a small sign in the window. It says "Room for rent." He looks at the sign for a long time. He feels strange, like the sign is calling him. He does not know why he feels this way. But he walks to the door anyway. His hand shakes a little when he reaches for the bell.
He rings the bell. He waits. But he does not wait long.
The door opens very fast, almost too fast. A kind old woman is standing there. She has a soft smile. "Come in, my dear," she says. Her voice is gentle and sweet. He goes inside the house. It is warm and quiet inside. It is very quiet, too quiet maybe, but he does not think about that. He is too tired. He takes off his coat and hat. She hangs them up for him. She tells him the price. It is very cheap. He is happy about this.
"Thank you," he says. "This is a very nice house."
"I am happy you like it," she says. "Not many people come here."
He thinks this is strange. The house is so nice. Why do not many people come? But he does not ask her about it. He is too tired to ask questions. He follows her into the sitting room instead.
There is a big chair by the fire. She asks him to sit down. He sits in the chair. It is very comfortable. She brings him hot tea and a biscuit. He says thank you. He drinks the tea slowly. It tastes strange, but he does not mind. He talks with her a little. She asks about his age. He tells her he is young. She smiles more and looks at him closely, like she is studying his face. She asks more questions about him, and he answers politely, feeling more and more relaxed. She asks where he comes from and why he is in this town. He tells her about his new job. She listens very carefully, nodding at every word.
"You are a very handsome young man," she says.
"Thank you," he says, feeling shy.
He looks around the room again. He sees a book on the small table. It looks like a guest book. He wants to look at it, but he feels too tired to move. He can see other names written inside it.
She talks more about her house. She says she likes having young men stay with her. She says the house is always ready for a new guest. She says this makes her very happy. He thinks this is a little odd, but her voice is so kind that he does not worry too much. He drinks more tea.
The fire is warm. The chair is soft. He starts to feel very comfortable. He thinks this is a lucky find. He is glad he did not go to the loud hotel.
He looks at a picture on the wall. Two young men are in the picture. They are smiling. He thinks he knows their names. But he cannot remember why. He wants to ask her about it. But he feels too tired to speak. His eyes feel heavy. His hands feel heavy too. His whole body feels heavy and slow. He tries to think, but his mind feels foggy and slow.
"Do you like the picture?" the old woman asks.
"Yes," he says slowly. "Who are they?"
"Old friends," she says. "Very old friends. They stayed here too."
He wants to ask more, but the words do not come. His mouth feels heavy, like it does not belong to him.
"They were very special young men," she continues, her eyes still on his face. "Just like you."
He tries to smile, but even his face feels slow to move.
He wants to stand up, but he cannot move. He wants to say something, but no words come out. He tries again, but his mouth will not work. He looks at the old woman. She is still smiling at him. Her eyes do not move away from his face.
The fire crackles softly. The room feels warmer and warmer. His eyelids grow heavier. He cannot fight it anymore. He tries once more to move his arm, but it does not listen to him.
He looks at the small dog by the fire. It does not move at all. He looks at the bird in the cage. It does not move either. Something feels very wrong, but he cannot think about it now. His mind is too slow and tired.
He wants to ask about the dog. He wants to ask about the bird. But his mouth still will not work. He can only sit there, looking at her, unable to move or speak.
The old woman stands up. She walks closer to him. She looks down at him with her soft smile. "Sleep now, my dear," she says quietly. "You are exactly right."
He wants to ask what she means. But his eyes are closing. He cannot open them again. He hears her voice, far away now, like it is coming from behind a wall.
"So many young men come to this town," she says softly. "But only the special ones find my house."
He tries to remember her words. But his mind is too tired. He cannot hold on to any thought.
He feels her hand touch his hair gently, like a mother with a child. He wants to move away, but his body does not answer him. He is too tired. He is too heavy.
The old woman goes to a small book on the table. She picks up a pen. She writes something down. He cannot see what she writes. His eyes are almost closed now. He feels very far away from everything, like he is floating in a warm, dark cloud.
He thinks about his new job. He thinks he will not go there tomorrow. He does not understand why he thinks this, but the thought comes anyway, slow and quiet, and then it is gone. He thinks about his mother. He thinks she does not know where he is tonight.
He looks one more time at the picture on the wall. The two young men are still smiling. He feels like he is looking at himself, somehow, though he does not understand why.
The old woman sits back down beside him. She takes his hand gently. Her hand is cold, but her smile is warm. "You will like it here," she whispers. "You will never have to leave."
He wants to pull his hand away. He cannot. His fingers do not move. He looks at her face one last time. It is still kind. It is still gentle. But now it looks a little different, too. He cannot say how.
The clock on the wall ticks slowly. The fire burns low. The room grows dim and soft, like a photograph fading with time. The little dog does not wake. The bird does not sing.
Slowly, the light in the room grows dark. The house becomes very quiet. Everything is still. He closes his eyes. He never leaves the house again.