Before the same dilapidated red brick house.
The air was stuffy and hot. Even the wind that blew at night carried a scorching heat, and the moon that had hung in the night sky had disappeared at some point, leaving only a scattering of stars to be seen.
The man crossed the long field ridge and arrived at the wall outside the red brick house.
The croaking of frogs was incessant at night, with the creatures everywhere. One, having settled in the overgrown corner of the wall, kept up its calls nonstop. But as soon as the man approached silently, the frogs sensed danger and leapt out of the grass, vanishing into the adjacent rice paddy in the blink of an eye.
The man moved from the woodshed to the kitchen, circumventing his way, finally reaching the front door.
