Outsider(2)
The night had settled deep over the town, cloaking it in a quiet, heavy darkness. Outside his tavern, a stout man with a thick belly and worn-out apron stood by the doorway, casting one last gaze at the empty, dim-lit street. With a sigh, he reached for the sturdy wooden door and swung it shut, the soft creak of its hinges cutting through the silence. He heaved his weight against it, locking the latch firmly, ensuring it was shut tight against any unexpected visitors who might stumble by after hours.
The man paused, wiping a meaty hand across his balding head and glancing back at the darkened windows. Inside, the tavern was now empty of the raucous voices and laughter that had filled it only an hour before, its tables scattered with the remnants of the evening's patrons—a few forgotten mugs, a discarded cloak, crumbs littering the floor.