Chapter 22 The Taste of Home (Ch 827637448)

Traffic was blocked, the economy was isolated, business was down, and even the internet was inaccessible because signal towers were bombed.
A closed environment, high-handed spectators, bets that have nothing to do with the people involved… What does this look like?
The Colosseum.
“Hello, this is Julie.”
“Hello, Julie, this is Sean Santiago.”
Julie was stunned for a moment: “Manager, what’s the matter?”
Their factory generally does not call employees after get off work hours.
“Julie, you have been laid off. You don’t need to come to work anymore. Please take some time to go to your workstation and pack up your personal belongings.”
The butler’s voice was cold.
The situation in Gotham right now is that non-essential entertainment factories are laying off employees.
The cold wind blew in through the window. Julie hesitated and tried to fight for it, but the butler seemed to have predicted it and continued:
“It’s not just you. I’ve also been laid off. Notifying you is my last job.”
Julie said nothing more.
After hanging up the phone, I walked to the window, following the wind, and looked into the distance. The low gray and black buildings were silent, and the clouds were still the same, but there was a wide light at the junction of the two, and the Gothic style that reached into the sky in the distance filled the gap.
No matter how much Julie stood on tiptoe, she couldn’t see the scenery in the distance.
The puppy, who could only whimper, noticed her bad mood and came out from the corner, rubbing against her trouser leg.
His eyes moved down to the balcony, where some supplies were piled up. They were dropped by a drone a few days ago.
“Wayne is the only good guy.” Julie looked at the “W” pattern on the package.
Bruce Wayne is called the Pearl of Gotham perhaps not just because of his appearance and money. Although he is recognized as a fool, he is the kindest among those blood-sucking thieves and the most conscientious of the people in Gotham.
but……
“How can he be Batman?”
This is like a goddess who thinks she is noble and untainted by the dust of the world, but in fact she has already fallen into the dust of the world and become a prostitute.
Pig-billed bats shuttled through the gray and black buildings, like ashes drifting from the sky.
“The rich are always rich, the poor are always poor…even the richest are willing to act crazy to save the poor…”
The cheap diamonds on Julie’s phone case gleamed with a hollow, false gleam.
“Boom boom boom—”
There was a knock on the door, and before she could answer, a high-pitched female voice came:
“Julie! We have raised money to pay for the sanitation fee, and I won’t ask you for any compensation for mental damages.”
“Just give us your share of the supplies, okay?”
This is a male voice.
There was also noisy footsteps and discussions.
Julie’s neighbors gathered at her door.
“I saw you were at home! Open the door!”
“Julie, you are sorry to everyone… It was Jamie who died in the water tank.”
“If you don’t open it, we’ll kick it out. There’s no place to fix the door right now, so don’t blame us when the time comes.”
Julie bent down, picked up the whimpering German Shepherd, and walked over.
The quality of the door is not very good, even the joints of the anti-theft iron door are rusty.
She opened the door.
“Bah! Know what’s best for you!” The first person to rush in was the one who was taking drugs in the crowd. He spat fiercely at the silent Julie, and then rushed straight to the balcony.
——For convenience, the drone is dropped on everyone’s balcony.
But after a while, his cursing voice was heard again: “Just two painkillers? Damn, damn Wayne!”
In today’s Gotham, the profit margin of basic supplies is much larger than that of ordinary drugs, so the sale of drugs has decreased… Not to mention that drugs now either sell for thousands of dollars per gram, or must be exchanged for supplies.
This is very unfriendly to the drug addicts in the slums, but fortunately they found that the painkillers in the supplies released by Wayne were also addictive.
It is much more cost-effective to make painkillers than to exchange supplies for drugs.
But this doesn’t mean that drug addicts turn a blind eye to basic supplies.
He cursed and stuffed compressed biscuits, drinking water, and vitamin C into his arms…
“Burns! Didn’t you just say you were going to take a painkiller? Let me go!” Another man suddenly jumped up and kicked him again: “Don’t force me to beat you up.”
Burns then looked up and saw the crowd glaring at him. He muttered a few words, grabbed his bulging pockets, and retreated. When he passed by Julie, he spat fiercely at her feet.
The German Shepherd bared its teeth at him, earning him the insult of “little beast”, while Julie lowered her head, half-hugging the German Shepherd, and showed no reaction to the outside situation.
After a long time, there were the sounds of messy footsteps again, mixed with a few words of dissatisfaction with the distribution.
The crowd left in a mighty procession.
The windows were still open, and the door from the balcony to the living room was also open. The wind was howling from both sides, and the incomplete Wayne logo was blown everywhere.
The black wrapping paper looks like a pig-mouthed bat, and also like ashes after burning.
Julie let go of the German Shepherd’s hand, walked stiffly to the door, and tried to close it. After trying several times, she found that it was still broken.
She had no choice but to half-close it and then find a low cabinet to block it.
While she was doing this, the German Shepherd followed closely, its bright black eyes moist, looking pitiful and cute.
Julie opened her mouth to say something, but she didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent.
I walked to the balcony again and found that all the piles of German Shepherd dog food had been taken away by someone, leaving only some plastic bags and pieces of paper.
Julie watched but had no desire to clean up. She stepped back, closed the balcony door, and then locked it.
It’s already dark, it’s six o’clock in the evening.
She watched the moving pointer and followed it into the kitchen.
The kitchen was intact and there was some food in it to last about a week.
Julie sprinkled oil on the pot, turned on the gas stove and range hood, then opened the cupboard and took out an egg, but looking at the German Shepherd standing quietly at the kitchen door, she took out another egg.
The dog food is gone and they need to eat something.
The range hood was buzzing, the egg was cracked on the edge of the pot, and then broken into pieces, emitting a sizzling fragrance.
Julie’s attention was drawn to a small piece of egg shell that had accidentally fallen into the pot.
She looked at the protruding white shell and took out a shovel from the side and tried to shovel it away, but failed several times. She then used a knife and fork, but also failed.
In fact, the white shell did not fall on the egg, but on the edge of the pot. Most people would usually wait until they finish cooking and then brush the pot off.
But Julie was obsessed with taking it out.
Fail once, fail twice…
Six failures…
Finally succeeded.
Julie looked at her burned fingertips and smiled.
But at the same time, the fried eggs began to smell burnt.
…
People are patient, but emotions just accumulate, which does not mean they disappear. When it reaches a critical point, even if the food is just burnt, emotions will explode.