The air in this street was always heavy. The smell of flashing neon signs, old whiskey, cheap perfume, and rain-soaked concrete mingled together, seeping deep into the lungs with every breath.

Dawn always began with alcohol and ended with alcohol. By some twist of fate, while walking through the alley holding an umbrella to escape the rain and the stench of booze, you encounter him lying in the alleyway without so much as an umbrella to cover him.