Take a Friday night in July, in the  novel 1990s.  It is  seven-spot ?o clock, and a young  charr, 22 long time old, is  pugilism up, ready to leave the office and travel home.  She wishes her colleagues goodnight, and walks to the elevator, briefcase in hand.  She reaches  show up, presses the ? nap? button of the elevator, shuffling her feet impatiently.  The elevator doors open.  It is empty.  The  adult female walks in, the elevator pickings her down to the ground floor of the building.  The doors open, and she hurries  show up, out through the revolving doors of the building, out into the open.  A concoction of loud and  exquisite sounds meets her ears, contrasting with the relative,  order lull of the office:  machines shriek as they speed by,  muckle talk animatedly on the footpath,  hands on loudspeakers  remove their wares.  She breathes in deeply, savouring the smell of the fresh,  ice-cold  pedigree, and smiles.  All she could  look at about was getting on that  mickle hom   e, where she could relax, away from the  tensity and boredom that was work in the office.  Maybe, if she catches the early bus, she could make it in time for the evening movie.  She strides  onward onto the road, absorbed in her thoughts, towards the bus bay on the former(a) side of the street.

  A  cable car horn sounds; brakes screech, and the woman?s world turns black.  without delay take that same  accounting from a different angle.  On a Friday night in July, in the late 1990s, a 40-year-old man walks out of his house,  spill to purchase the week?s groceries.  He gets behind the  wrap of his second-hand 1993 model    Ford Falcon, and drives to the  local super!   market.  He gets out of the car and opens the door to the shop, the warm air slamming into his...                                        If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: 
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