It's one thing to be lost in an unfamiliar city, it's another thing entirely to be lost in the middle of the worst storm they've had in well over a decade. It was raining hard enough to soak you in a second, hard enough to leave you all but blind, hard enough to bruise and everywhere he turned was dead end after dead end.
The map he purchased at the airport was either drastically out of date or he was more turned around than a sailor with one oar. For all he knew his hotel could be right beside him but all he saw was a sky bleeding rain faster than a broken tap and everyone seemed to have turned their lights off.
He wasn't in the kind of place that had regular streetlights and he soon found himself cursing this as he fumbled his way round another corner, praying there'd be a covering or doorway he could duck into and regain his bearings. Five corners later and he started to wonder if he'd be better off knocking on the next door and begging for shelter til morning.
Fortunately he found an open doorway, or rather he slipped and fell into an open doorway covered in more dust than a building site. As he caught his breath from the shock of the sudden drop and lack of rain he started taking a look at where he now was.
The cemetary was supposed to be almost a mile away from the city outskirts but he swore he'd been right on the main street barely a moment ago. Now he was in someone's mausoleum, soaked to the bone and shivering from more than just the chill of the rain.
Staggering to his feet he debated heading back out into the storm, staying felt both disrespectful and dangerous but the downpour outside looked like someone was throwing buckets from the heavens. With a great deal of worry he took a few paces towards the back of the mausoleum and sat on a set of steps.
Whether it was the weather or the jetlag, it took him a good while to realise that the stairs were going up...
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