“A fire also licked at itself in the grate. Perhaps as a result of these generous touches, or simply because the inn stood so near the centre of things, the place was busy despite it being as yet mid-afternoon. As well as groups of merchants and sailors scattered around the tables, a clutch of men stood before the bar. I saw muddy breeches, a pair of split-heeled boots, and a sleeve hanging ripped like a broken wing. Labourers, freed early from a job. From the sounds of their raised voices they ...had been here a while. The sailor had to make his way through their midst to reach the bar. Yet before he’d even uttered his first ‘pardon me’, the atmosphere in the room shifted; whereas in the street outside the Negro’s size had given him a right of way, in here it drew unwanted attention. Being big makes you a milestone by which smaller – and, often, drunken – men are compelled to navigate. The broken heels belonged to a wiry fellow who wore a short beard; as the sailor attempted to sidestep him this man planted his feet wide.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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