Sunlight filtered in through the window of Yoska's makeshift bedroom. It was essentially a cleared out storage closet in the back of the bookshop where he worked, but it was a novelty to the young man. For one, he'd never slept inside a day in his life before starting his job here. Before, he had either laid out under the stars, huddled on a stoop or beside a dumpster, or slept in a barn full of animals. Even if the old mattress beneath him laid on the floor, it was softer than all of his past beds combined. The indoor pluming was an interesting change as well. Yoska had to get used to the idea of showering every day. 

He got up and went into the small bathroom across the hall. The bookshop must have been a residential building at some point, because the bathroom had a shower and a linen closet. The man pulled off his loose sleep pants, also something he'd never had before, and stepped under the hot spray. Yoska had to admit, this fancy high-life these people had was pleasant. Although, to him, it was hard to think of himself as anything other than a street urchin. A waif that nobody really wanted. After all, that's what he'd been told most of his life. 

After getting out of the shower, Yoska combed his wildly curly hair and got himself dressed. His clothes were cheap and ill fitted over his wiry frame. Most of them had come from a Goodwill store, except for those that had been given to him. He didn't mind. It was a lot more than he'd used to have. As he brushed his teeth, the orange cat that shared his home at the bookstore wandered in. She rubbed against his leg and meowed softly, making Yoska smile. After he rinsed his mouth out, he bent down to pet her affectionately, saying good morning in a language that wasn't English. 

Yoska then stepped over the cat and went to put his shoes on. He had work to do today, after all. The shop had ordered a few new bookshelves, and they weren't going to put [i]themselves[/i] together. He was trailed by the feline as he walked towards the space at the back of the shop, where the new boxes sat. Yoska tore the first one open and discarded the instructions. No matter how many languages the manual was printed in, the young man was unable to read it. It was okay, however, because he could do this by heart. Yoska sat down with his screwdriver and began to assemble the shelves as a few customers strolled in. It wasn't really his thing to go and greet them. They probably wouldn't want to see a dirty Romani boy like him anyway.