1284. I'm sitting in a space between two brick buildings in a place that looks vaguely like Old Town, I know it's Old Town, though absolutely none of the buildings are actually ones you'd find there in reality.
I'm having an espresso.
Suddenly, the brick wall on the north side of the courtyard soundlessly falls on everyone in the cafe's courtyard, draping itself over us as though it were a blankit. It smarts mightily, but nobody is so much as scratched.
At that moment I realize that I'm the only one who can properly document the scene due to my writing and photographic talents. So I run like hell down SW Broadway (going quickly south of Burnside) to find a camera store so I can buy one. I'm broker than broke, but I figure I'll cross that bridge when I find it.
All the camera stores sell jewelry and electronics. No cameras at all.
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