Florian was to observe the comings and goings in the center through the bulletproof glass of the restaurant, with automatic gestures drying the white wine glasses. The last customers, furry and jeweled, they left the table to disappear into the elevator that would take them chirping in the garage-bunker of the building.
Florian wondered what they were doing at that moment his former classmates. He had left in the second year and found himself washing dishes in a restaurant, while the other points for his career. But the fast-food boxes and their brains had atrophied ...
now wandering aimlessly along the road to crazy.
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