He flipped open a textbook. It was Higher Secondary Chemistry.He recalled a little of his own past how he had struggled during school. He smiled to himself and sat on the bed for a while. The room must be pretty cool by now, he thought. He shut the door and walked a little bit further and opened the other door. It was Vaishnavi’s. He stepped back and closed the door and went to the parent’s room. He watched a movie and fell asleep after a while.When he woke up, it was a little before 3:00 and he felt a little hungry. He was still naked up to his waist and the sun had reduced its intensity. He figured he can go back to his flat, get changed and go get something to eat. He turned off the A/C, folded his laptop and took the charger and walked out of the room. Just before exiting the flat, he thought again whether he should peek into Vaishu’s room or not. He put the laptop and charger on the coffee table and walked to her room and pressed open the latch.As he opened the door, a soft. “Even power-mad men don’t want to go through the extra work of unwrapping a woman bundled up against the cold. And a prostitute in snow pants and a parka doesn’t attract much attention.” Ten degrees outside and I could see that the park was pretty much deserted.“Where do they go?” I asked. If they weren’t turning tricks, how were the women of the street living? Where were addicts getting their fixes if the pusher wasn’t available?“A few use bad weather to make a break. They come to the clinic and ask for help shaking their addictions and we send them out to the shelter. The shelter is a pretty unhappy place in the winter. There’s a lot of crying. A lot of screaming,” he said. “Some either try to make it south to warmer climes or try to get a hotel job on Hennepin Avenue. If you know where to look, there are at least a dozen escort agencies that fill orders around the convention center and sports arena. A few go to strip clubs, but the clubs are pretty picky about whether a dancer is.
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