When he finally got outside, a faint breeze brushed against his skin and the smell of sea and salt assaulted him. He immediately looked to the night sky, only to see half a moon softly illuminating it. His vision began swimming and something watery appeared on his cheeks. He shakily raised his hand to wipe his face with the torn dirty rag that was his sleeve. He was crying. But those tears were of joy, not of sorrow. Then he burst out in raspy laughter for a short moment, before his perched throat constricted making him bend over and he started coughing heavily.