1-2-3-4 → 2-1-3-4 → 3-1-2-4 → 4-1-2-3
Some dude with a trendy haircut—sort of wavy sides and spiky slicks, half-army half-punk—stands cutting a carrot, bobbing his head to music coming from the white rectangle tucked into his belt. Behind him a pot bubbles over quite quickly, sloshing hot water down the cooker and onto the laminate floor. The dude chops rhythmically, pleased with himself. He reaches for his belt and pushes a button to skip a track. The water pools around his feet and he looks over at the pot and shouts, clearly: “Shit! Shit! Shit!”
He minces around the monster pot, still spitting water, grabs an oven glove and lifts the pot off the hob. He turns his head and shouts something into another room, reaching for a dishtowel to mop up the water. As he bends down, the white rectangle drops out his belt and dangles from the headphone cables in his ears, saved by a swift grab as he stands up again. He tosses the dishtowel in the washing machine then checks the pot. He calls through to the room again and pokes the contents of the pot with a wooden spoon.