2029. New York, USA James rushed around in the small apartment. There was a small kitchen with a stove, a small fridge and a few cabinets near the ceiling as well as the floor, made of cheap wood that housed a few water glasses, mugs, cutlery among other things. It was tiled, facing the small lounge where only two brown sofas could be found, a TV, a few picture frames and a window. James rushed from his bedroom and into the lounge with a toothbrush stuck in his mouth. He walked briskly into the kitchen where he saw the frying pan giving the smoky signal of proudly burnt meat. He removed the pan, made some toast and placed it in a plate with a frustrated shaking of the head as he packed all in his lunch. He ran to the toilet. A spit, rinse and splash later, he was rushing to the lounge with a satchel on his back.
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