Scene: Suburbia. The trees look like they’re out of a Norman Rockwell painting. The city square is retro in style with a modern feel. It’s got it’s share of little shops dotting the centre. There’s a man reading the paper with his dog. Children on bikes outside a 50s diner. It’s a hot day. Warm Santa Anas blow through the trees.
Cue the camera to a birds eye view. A 60s style apartment. A pair of women’s shoes. The sound of footsteps scrambling about the house. A hand wipes a sweaty brow. Small fingers point at an invisible watch.
Late late late.
Cue a bit closer now. A bike. The girl goes down the stairs. You still cannot see her face. But you know it’s a girl. Her clothes, despite being discheveled, are put together. Just not the way most would think to.
The bike is brought down a set of stairs. Down a cement corridor and up a few more steps. She looks yet again at the invisible watch. Puts a headphone in one ear. Red hair falls to the side of her neck. She grabs it and makes the ponytail tighter and rushes on the bike heading towards the village.
Late late late.
Past the man with his paper. Past the children on bikes. Past the 50s diner, the botiques and little shops. On this road, to the left, is a set of buildings covered in shade and moss.
The camera glances sideways at some dark brown lettering. There are a few businesses in here. All suites to various personal offices.
The girl takes the bike up another step now. She walks under a trellus of moss. She carefully looks side to side at each name. Not that one. Not that one.
Ah the women’s restroom. This is close to her destination. She looks either direction at a series of doors. “I’m going to guess it’s this one.”
She walks in and brushes herself off. Pulls her hair back again and does a once over. There are a few dusty library books on a table. Some old mustard colored pin chairs in the hallway. It has an aura of familiarity about it. Oh yes, that’s because she has one of those chairs at home. Heh.
Two doors line another hallway inside. Another side shot of brown lettering.. this time, it’s legible.
Whew. It’s the right place. Now onto business.
A tiny elderly woman comes out and greets her.
Wow someone shorter than me? That’s not exactly.. common.
The older woman begins to talk now. She points to a clipboard with some paperwork.
“Please fill all of these out and then knock on the door again. It should take you about 10 minutes”
She sits down. Rustles through a purse and another bag. Writes a couple of text messages, and pulls out a pen.
She sighs. This is not going to be fun. But unfortunately, it’s an inevitable path.
She scribbles aimlessly and bites her lip. Takes out her phone and looks at a picture. She sighs again and smiles… drifted away for a moment to shine.
The door loudly opens again . It startles her, but she’s done now.
She looks down once more at the picture. She smiles, looks up again. Takes a deep breath.
“As ready as I’ll ever be I spose.”