A Shanghai expat has somehow managed to survive for over twenty six years without having come to understand how to manage the basic life needs of his body.
Every day, come approximately noon thirty, Jared Dunhill is inexplicably shocked by a crippling wave of hunger that tells his body that it is time to eat. Despite having experienced a similar sensation daily for 26 years, which would mean this has happened approximately nine thousand five hundred times, the expat has still not adapted to expect the sensation of hunger which indicates that his body would like a meal, which it will convert into energy to use in accomplishing its fairly critical daily goal of of not dying.
Frantically leaving his office in search of sustenance, the expat forages in several known and trusted locations, where he has consistently been able to purchase sandwiches, bowls of pasta or noodles or rice, various fried vegetables, the odd fruit, and on really nice days, something a bit classy, like yoghurt with muesli and berries.
Having consumed these, the expat is immediately satisfied and able to return to work. Productivity skyrockets, peaks at a respectable level, and continues humming along at a steady clip until around a quarter to six, when Jared’s energy levels come screeching to a sudden halt as his body is riddled once again with pangs of hunger. Again, and I mean literally every day, the expat is shocked to the point of incredulity, having ‘just fed [it]’, which is believed to refer either to his stomach or to the beast with an insatiable appetite that he believes resides inside of him.
By a quarter after six, Jared can generally be found crawling to another favored hunting ground, where most days he is able to scavenge, steal, scrounge, or legally purchase food. Exhausted, he then retires to his habitation, where, despite his best efforts, he suffers undesired bouts of unconsciousness every single night, lasting approximately seven hours.
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