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TWENTY-FOUR

Today, Klyde went home with the intention to cook dinner. He did not originally plan it, but he got off work pretty early, even earlier than the times he did before. So, he figured maybe he can cook dinner. He’s been cooking breakfast after all, why not try dinner too?

It’s four in the afternoon when he entered the apartment. The whole apartment is bathed in the afternoon light bleeding from the floor to ceiling window near the stairs. Klyde disposed his things first on the living room floor, before dumping his body on the plush couch.

He sighed.