We went to room twelve at the far end of the outdoor corridor.

The room smelled strongly of old cigarette smoke and cheap lemon cleaner.

A big metal heater rattled against the window glass, pushing dry, warm air across the worn brown carpet.

Ethan sat down on the edge of the firm mattress and pulled a small plastic bottle of formula from his coat pocket.

He held the baby carefully in the crook of his arm, supporting her head.

She drank in quiet, steady swallows while the rain lashed against the glass outside.