A little girl in tears

Morley Smith, a comfortable clubman near fifty, feels a sudden restlessness after a brief taste of wanderlust. One night, spurred by a cheap novel and a half‑pint of sauterne, he slips into a fur‑lined coat, flags a taxi, and heads for the unfamiliar East Side. The rain‑slick streets and a nondescript tenement loom ahead, promising a change from his predictable evenings in the smoking room.

Inside the building, Morley climbs narrow stairs to a fourth‑floor doorway and knocks with a measured, authoritative rap. A pale, wide‑eyed teenage girl answers, her modest room holding only a bench, a lamp, a half‑eaten loaf and a bottle of milk. The stark surroundings intrigue him, stirring a mixture of curiosity and unease as he wonders what lies beyond this humble threshold, while the night’s chill whispers of further, uncharted moments.