The Devil

It was winter on the West Coast. As the sun set and night rose, the temperature plummeted.

The people on the streets tightened their coats, wrapping scarves around their necks and putting on gloves. Everyone was running back to their warm house.

The workers at the docks were still busy though.

Those docks were not like the cargo-oriented Hologest Port. Tourism was the top priority there.

Outside of the docks, cars were parked in an orderly manner. Beside them was a polite attendant.

Philly sighed over the service. Truth be told, after living on the sea for so long, this depressed him. Even though it was a luxurious ferry ride, the bunch of old-fashioned, strict people around him made him feel like a prisoner.

"Is this the West Coast? It sure feels good to stand on solid ground! I wonder if there’s anything interesting here to cure my boredom?" Philly asked the attendant, tightening his coat.

"My apologies, sir. I’m just a driver…" the attendant answered in a courteous manner.