Gг©nг©rique -

He got out of bed, dressed in his , and walked out the door. He didn't look back at the HOUSE . He walked toward the edge of the gray, toward the brown dirt and the rusted metal, waiting for the moment the credits would finally roll so the real movie could begin.

He realized then that they weren't living in a world; they were living in a draft. They were the placeholders, the "Insert Character Here" of a story that hadn't been written yet. GГ©nГ©rique

His wife gasped, pulling back as if he were holding a live coal. "Where did you get that? It’s... it’s specific." He got out of bed, dressed in his , and walked out the door