Ext. Day
busy street.
4 lanes of two way traffic
mid afternoon
mom and daughter have taken the day to search for apartments
6.5, unheated, close to metro, bright and ideal for students. $950 unheated
Daughter rings the buzzer.
Sounds of running towards the door.
Door opens. A small mulato girl, 6 years old, opens the door. Wided eyed, hair in pig tails, liquid stains down the front of her shirt.
Daughter:
ah, can I speak to your daddy or mummy? I'm here to see the apartment...
Girl:
okay. One minute.
she slams the door. Feet stomping quickly down the hall. The echoes of "pappa! Pappa!" can be heard through the glass.
Door opens. Middle aged man. His girth fills the width of the frame. Glasses, broken hinges, held together with electrican's tape. Hair, grey and matted on one side. Sloping towards the ceiling. Navy blue tshirt. Punctuated with liquid stains down the front. A map of lunch, breakfast or perhaps, last night's supper.
Man:
are you here to see the apartment?
Daughter pauses. Mother lets out a slow aprehensive nasal sigh.
Daughter:
the 6 1/2? Yes.
The women follow the man up the stairs. Each holding onto the handrail with both hands. The steps quiver with each plodding step he takes.
Mother looks back to daughter - without a word, her face says: "this can't be good.."
Man:
When are you looking to rent?
Daughter:
(hestiating) Oh, not until June. Maybe earlier, but no earlier than Mid April.
Man:
That's soon. I already have a few people interested, so if you like the place, let me know as soon as possible...
Man knocks on door. Announces himself. "Landlord"
Door opens - a young man, 19, thin, clean shaven, studious looking, acedemic casual...
"got somebody to see the apartment".
Student:
Sure, come right in.
Mother and daughter pause in the doorway, on either side, a long narrow hallway. One end, the kitchen, the other, a living room with a couch and 40 inch flat screen tv.
Landlord:
Look around. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.
Daughter slowly enters the living room. oddly asymetrical. Rectangular. Main window facing the busy main street. Crown molding wraps around the walls, and on each a row of empty beer bottles. Hundreds. Various sizes, colors, languages. Lager, ale, stout. Canadian, Belgian, German, American. Teenage tropies of surviving insulubrious evenings, binge drinking and marathon puking.
THe young man stands behind the mother. Beaming proudly, his boastful collection...
On the ceiling, the crown molding draws attention to itself. Stained brown and black from eroded water damage and the smoke from sparks, bare wires hang like dead squid tentacles from the gaping hole where a light should have been. Her eyes follow the vein of rot across to the other end of the room.
busy street.
4 lanes of two way traffic
mid afternoon
mom and daughter have taken the day to search for apartments
6.5, unheated, close to metro, bright and ideal for students. $950 unheated
Daughter rings the buzzer.
Sounds of running towards the door.
Door opens. A small mulato girl, 6 years old, opens the door. Wided eyed, hair in pig tails, liquid stains down the front of her shirt.
Daughter:
ah, can I speak to your daddy or mummy? I'm here to see the apartment...
Girl:
okay. One minute.
she slams the door. Feet stomping quickly down the hall. The echoes of "pappa! Pappa!" can be heard through the glass.
Door opens. Middle aged man. His girth fills the width of the frame. Glasses, broken hinges, held together with electrican's tape. Hair, grey and matted on one side. Sloping towards the ceiling. Navy blue tshirt. Punctuated with liquid stains down the front. A map of lunch, breakfast or perhaps, last night's supper.
Man:
are you here to see the apartment?
Daughter pauses. Mother lets out a slow aprehensive nasal sigh.
Daughter:
the 6 1/2? Yes.
The women follow the man up the stairs. Each holding onto the handrail with both hands. The steps quiver with each plodding step he takes.
Mother looks back to daughter - without a word, her face says: "this can't be good.."
Man:
When are you looking to rent?
Daughter:
(hestiating) Oh, not until June. Maybe earlier, but no earlier than Mid April.
Man:
That's soon. I already have a few people interested, so if you like the place, let me know as soon as possible...
Man knocks on door. Announces himself. "Landlord"
Door opens - a young man, 19, thin, clean shaven, studious looking, acedemic casual...
"got somebody to see the apartment".
Student:
Sure, come right in.
Mother and daughter pause in the doorway, on either side, a long narrow hallway. One end, the kitchen, the other, a living room with a couch and 40 inch flat screen tv.
Landlord:
Look around. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.
Daughter slowly enters the living room. oddly asymetrical. Rectangular. Main window facing the busy main street. Crown molding wraps around the walls, and on each a row of empty beer bottles. Hundreds. Various sizes, colors, languages. Lager, ale, stout. Canadian, Belgian, German, American. Teenage tropies of surviving insulubrious evenings, binge drinking and marathon puking.
THe young man stands behind the mother. Beaming proudly, his boastful collection...
On the ceiling, the crown molding draws attention to itself. Stained brown and black from eroded water damage and the smoke from sparks, bare wires hang like dead squid tentacles from the gaping hole where a light should have been. Her eyes follow the vein of rot across to the other end of the room.
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