“So yea.” Jake added, “All my whereabouts were lost and, we assume, forgiven. Then, a jubilee of clouds gave an uprising welcome to few of solar rays. It swung very retro, vintage metro, veil electro. That’s my recall, anyways”.
Jake Landa, an average-looking highschool boy, in a room with two men in suits. The room was hella hobo. Mid-on lights and flickering ones hanging from above. Discoloured velvet fabrics of red and green and blue governed the dissonant vibes.
“Huh”, one suit finally mumbled.
“All I do is translate”, Jake continued. “What I’m reading certainly makes no sense. I sense pretentious, hence I’m anxious to help in any way. So what d’you say?”.
Jake was reading from a pile of letters the suits gave him. There had been some amateur car bombings.
