Several days had passed. Mr. Mike's interview subject—the former miner who had lost an arm and a leg in the explosion and collapse—still hadn't left his little hovel. At least, that's how it seemed to everyone else.
"Henry? Henry?" A woman's hoarse shouts echoed from outside. Her precious son, Henry, had gone missing. Her neighbors from her hometown had helped the poor woman search the entire area, but he was nowhere to be found.
'So noisy. What's the point of looking for that worthless brat...' It wasn't that people hadn't searched the miner's little hovel. Before he disappeared, Henry had been active in this area, even running errands to buy wine for him. But they had found nothing, and no one suspected the crippled former miner any longer.
'That piece of trash is just waiting to die.' That's what everyone thought. After a cursory search, they couldn't wait to get out of the small hut, which reeked of filth and alcohol.
