LordShapersMuse

The chill nighttime air blasted across his face, as sharp as a backhanded slap. He held the door open for perhaps a second or two, uncertain if he was doing the right thing, and then he let go. It swung shut behind him, suddenly muffling the cacophany of noise that surrounded him. He could still hear the noise of the pub through the thin walls: the off-key voices of every drunk in town trying to sing along to a song they didn't know the words to, the mutter of muted conversation, the occasional shout of dismay or cheer from the one person that actually watched the TV that was perpetually tuned to some sports channel or other. He began to wal