In the four years you've owned the living room sofa, not once had it been an advocate of your discomfort. Sinking into the cushions, you rest your head on a pillow while turning the television on. With a soft buzz the television presents a picture. Two white middle aged news anchors stand before a desk, behind them video footage of what they describe to be nation wide pandemonium.
With a bead of sweat rolling off his brow, the male anchor says, "The president has called upon a State of Emergency as the nation has errupted into delirium. Mass riots have taken ahold of nearly every major city. As of yet, we do no know what is the cause of such violent hysteria, but we urge everyone to remain in doors while civil defense units get ahold of the situation."
The camera pans away from the speaking anchor, the montage of chaos and destruction now displayed fully on the screen. It was odd, as you watched image after image of destruction, you couldn't exactly tell how you felt. This wasn't a joke, something was going on. Your eyes remained glued to the T.V, as you traced the list of unsafe cities streaming across the screen. Adrian, the city your parents work, and the city no more then 10 miles away was listed on the screen.
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