New apartment on Dan Street.
The coffee machine beeped.
Surround sound played cowboy folk songs from the nostalgic radio.
There were new clothes just delivered on the sofa—biological cashmere breathable inner layer white T-shirt, aluminum glass heat-resistant jacket, and multifunctional synthetic fiber combat work pants.
John stood at the floor-to-ceiling window holding the iron railing.
The new place didn't have a balcony.
In the industrial-style building, there were only cold railings and hard, cold lines of support.
The colorful night of Eden City cast a glow on his face.
Short stubble, pupils with microchips, small scabs from healing wounds that hadn't completely fallen off.
The music ended and switched to the evening radio.
"F*ck yeah Everyone! I'm your Roy, what the hell are you scumbags doing? The cops on the night shift are about to go to sleep, isn't anyone starting something new, you unimaginative pigs, I don't even have material to rant on!"
