In a small apartment in the downtown area of Aline, a young man is tossing and turning in his bed. His comforter has already been thrown to the ground with only the edges of it clinging to his foot like a coiling snake as he rolled left to right. Visible drops of sweat are running down his forehead, the sheets underneath him are already soaked enough to squeeze water out. His face contorted in pain as he continued to toss and turn in his bed.

He prevented himself from rolling onto the floor by instinct alone. He had already been like this for the last ten minute. Fortunately, it only took another five minutes of struggling before everything finally settled for the young man was able to finally calm down and get some sleep.

It wasn until the next day that Kamara was able to finally wake up. He is sore all over his body and just as tired. If his stomach wasn screaming at him to eat, he wouldn have even woken up. But basic needs needed to be met and he was never one to ignore his needs. As he laboredly got out of bed, pulling himself up from the soaked sheets he finally started to truly take in everything that was around him.

All of it felt familiar to him, yet unfamiliar at the same time. He knew the reason why it was like this, but he had more important things to do at the moment. He needed to eat first, he was having a hard time even thinking due to the hunger pains.

Kamara finally pulled himself from bed and trudged out the door towards where he remembered his kitchen was. The walk to the kitchen was only ten feet, but it might as well have been a marathon for Kamara. As his sore and tired body didn allow him to move as quickly as he wanted, needing to use the wall as a support. Overall, turning a two or three-second walk into a few minutes. When Kamara finally made it to the kitchen, it was as if the secondary engines on a spaceship finally kicked in. He beelined for the fridge with speed a man in his condition shouldn have.

There wasn much in there, just an unfinished takeout meal, a few fruits, vegetables, cheese, and some deli meat. But like a teenager at 3 am, Kamara devoured any edible thing he could find in his fridge. The food never stood a chance against the beast he had become. The food in the fridge wasn enough to calm the monster inside of Kamara so he went to other areas of the kitchen to plunder. Whole villages of bread and uncooked noodles were wiped from the face of the planet in a matter of minutes. Seas of marinara sauce and mushroom cream soup dried up. The isles of peanut butter and jelly sunk into pits of acids. The Kitchocalypse had hit and it was unforgiving and unrelenting.

After the beast had finally satiated itself in slaughter, it finally left the kitchen and trudged along to its next destination. Destruction and chaos were all that was left in his quake, the villages of Kitchen would never be the same after that event.

After eating Kamara could feel his mind clearing up. With a full stomach, he made his way towards his bathroom so that he could get the sticky feeling off of him. So this time with a bit more energy in his step he made his way back down the hall towards his bathroom.

He quickly showered, brushed his teeth, and shampooed his hair before stepping out of the shower. By the time he was finished the bathroom was covered in a thick layer of steam fogging up the glass, denying him his first good look at himself. He tried to wipe the glass a couple of times to get a good look, but it didn work. So with a shake of his head, he walked out of the bathroom back to his room to get dressed for the rest of the day. His posture was much better than before, the shower had truly rejuvenated him.

Making his way across the hall to his room he decided to check himself out to see what he was working within this life.

He was pleasantly surprised by what

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