Food. Always start with food.

You sat there for a good few minutes just staring blankly at your mobile's corpse, contemplating what the day might bring you and getting nowhere near making a defined effort to actually do something.

Eventually, regardless of what your brain might have decided, your stomach interjects and makes a strong argument you can't ignore. Food. That sounds like a good plan.

With a growing sense of drive, you haul yourself off the bed and reach into your wardrobe for a pair of jeans and t-shirt, finding the one with your favourite rock band emblazoned on the front.

You exit the bedroom, stubbing your toe on a stray box of books in the process, and make your way down the hall to the kitchen, dropping in to the bathroom on the way. Bacon and eggs. You could almost taste it already. Your stomach growled at the image your brain had conjured up.

As you walk in, ready to get cooking and start the day with a nice breakfast, you cant shake the feeling that something is wrong or out of place. It nags at you for a second, causing nothing more than that irritating feeling of wishing you weren't an idiot. But, as expected, your stomach chimes in. And you back on track.

You open the fridge-freezer unit, it's grand, imposing form towering over you as the chilled air escaped into the space in front of you. Your skin reacts instantly and gives you goosebumps all over. Inside, much to your disappointment, are several empty-ish shelves of things you don't really want and couldn't really make a meal out of anyway. A quick search of the kitchen cupboards reveals a similar result.

Your stomach growled at you again, viciously, realising it wasn't going to be satisfied anytime soon.

This means only one of several things is going to happen next. Either you get your sorry ass out the door to buy some food from the local corner shop, or you begin a more in depth search of where Jenny might be so you can contemplate food consumption together. There was also lots of potential when it came to your neighbours.