jasonmott avatar

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He sits huddled in front of the television, awaiting the next catastrophe.
The light from the sun begs to enter the room, but he knows it will irradiate him if he lets it in, so he keeps the shades drawn.
He's down to a single meal a day; he can't take any chances.
Fear fills him as the thought of his cupboard crosses his mind; the stock that was once formidable is now nearly gone. How will he make it through doomsday?
The riots will come, they always do before the end, don't they?
It's coming, he knows it is.

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