Ron was already very old, his face covered in wrinkles, his hair completely gone, and age spots rampant across his face as if the God of Death beckoned him each day.
But once again, he awoke at dawn.
His wife had caught a bit of a cold recently, had even had a low-grade fever for the past two days, and though she took medicine and had been treated by the Church of the Dual Mothers, she had finally managed to sleep soundly today.
He didn't have the heart to wake her, so he got out of bed alone, went downstairs, and turned on the light.
He placed the kettle on the stove, lit the fire, and at the same time noticed that the light in neighboring unit 411 was on.
Yesterday, someone who should have died a long time ago came with a group to unit 411, they took a girl away, and then Durin's girls all left one after another.
Ron had lived a lifetime, and although his eyes were a bit dim, how could he not understand the anger and fire in their eyes?
