[As helpful as ever, Ted's journal lies open on the kitchen counter. Atop the cupboards, a cockroach skittered through dust. And then it flashed white.
And now there's a 33-year old man sprawled atop the cupboards. Disoriented, as well. With a groan, he rolls--
And there's a couple loud bangs and thuds in the kitchen.]
FUCK! What the hell?!
[A very
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Who's currently sitting a few feet away from you and watching with an amused expression. What's up, architect?]
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He heard that, architect.]
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