Tourist -

"It's not coming," she said, her voice raspy. She was wrapped in a wool coat that had seen better decades, holding a thermos.

"The fog doesn't read the forecast," she shrugged. "You’re the type who likes to be on time, aren't you?" tourist

"The sun?" Elias asked, checking his watch. "The forecast said clear skies." "It's not coming," she said, her voice raspy

The sun wasn’t even up when Elias pulled his suitcase over the cobblestones of Prague. The sound—a rhythmic clack-clack-clack —echoed against the silent, gothic facades, making him feel like an intruder in a sleeping giant’s bedroom. "It's not coming

Elias stiffened. "I like to be prepared. I’m only here for three days."