The Missing Fingerprint

Wang Hao stared at the overdue payment notice on his computer screen. Cigarette butts in the ashtray had piled up into a small hill.

"Rent's up by three hundred, property fees by fifty..." he muttered, snuffing out the half-smoked cigarette in the pile. As a temporary archive clerk for the municipal public security bureau, he barely earned enough to get by. His landlord's latest move was practically an attempt to drive him out of his tiny top-floor room in the urban village. Rain tapped on the metal awning outside the window with a steady patter, as if tolling a death knell for his wallet.