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Dr. Tomorrow Is Folding Laundry

“Lanky, long and lean –  a laundry-folding machine” he mumbles to himself, a bit of his floppy blonde bangs falling over his deep, dark goggle-like glasses. Hands. Feet. Laundry. Fold.

In his apartment bedroom, Dr. Tomorrow looks up and considers himself in the mirror on his dresser. He stares at his reflection for a moment and then three more. The sun is setting through the window behind him.

“Is this all there is?” he mouths to himself. He looks down at the spotless white turtleneck in his hands.

“This is all there is.”

He gets back to folding.

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