Inside, a single individual lies in a twin-sized bed with his eyes closed and his shirt removed. An involuntary smirk complements the face of the overtly attractive gentleman. He rhythmically sways his head side to side ever so gently, while his foot automatically taps in sync. Every now and again, a few strands of his long, dark-brown hair lands on his face; a nuisance that at any other time would warrant his attention. However, at this very moment, there is little in the world that can bother a man who has just finished exploiting an unfortunate accident, several towns over from where he is currently located, involving the collision of a Greyhound bus and an unsuspecting armored car on a highway off-ramp.

It isn’t a hundred percent clear whether or not this man, simply known as Surii the Cheshire, would go out of his way to witness the public discord unfolding outside of his window had he not just scored a small fortune. What is clear however, is that at the moment, he’s currently unaware of anything unfolding anywhere around him at all. This is simply because he has his 2007-generation iPod cranked up to a decibel level that rivals that of an outdoor rock concert, and he is blasting John Lennon’s unfitting but nonetheless iconic “War is Over.” Back in 2007, no consumer-electronics company had created a device that can output a volume of that caliber, but nowadays, all it takes is a quick software download and some very specific headphones to get the job done.

An almost imperceptible wind suddenly and gently shakes the entire establishment. With only three of his five main senses currently available for use, Surii’s body can’t help but to feel the wave of a soft vibration permeate first through the air around him, then along the bed frame and mattress he rests upon, and finally on his own skin. To the average man under the same circumstance, feeling the soft pulse of a large explosion from about a town over wouldn’t be possible, especially if he’s in the same euphoric state Surii is currently in while his favorite song blasts inside of his eardrums. However, Surii is just about everything in the world except average.

The gentle boom that courses through every single room at the Lily Inn Motel, and every other motel in a mile-wide radius for that matter, is only picked up on by Surii and perhaps any seismographs that may be nearby. The time it takes for him to show some sort of response to this seemingly random occurrence is somehow directly proportional to the imminent threat level that that occurrence readily proposes to him. In other words, worst things have happened to him which is why he barely budges. Nevertheless, he finally opens his eyes, grabs his iPod off his bare chest, and lowers his music to assess the disturbance in the air.

A furtive silence hovers around him, as if some unknown entity surreptitiously stole all the sounds of the world. There is no faint hum emanating from the bathroom light, no slight creaking coming from the wooden ceiling, and even the pesky squabbling coming from the pair outside seem to have vanished. Maybe it’s all in his imagination. Impossible.