The Factors

Episode 2- One of Many

 Yeah I'm finally done with a good healthy 3rd draft. haha still improving I hope :) 

Factory- Late night

Brie stands alone facing many paintings, many odd sculptures made of clay and porcelain, some vintage cameras, reels of film, a rusty set of scissors discarded on a white top table topped with fabrics. For the first time she sees a mannequin hidden behind three separate outfits on top another. It was Rag's collection in progress. It felt sinful for Brie to look at it. Alone, she felt unease, and tried hard to justify her presence.

She did a couple of cartwheels in the hall making it to the stacks of scripts, modeling head shots by the photocopier. The place used to be an office for sunset valley based Internet app starter cooperation. It tanked three years ago because no one wanted to know how many times you sneezed in one day.

Brie saw the remains of old and new business. She contemplated exploring Harper's corner office, but denied herself that privilege. She felt guilty enough to be there among the artworks. Music in the form of Cds, tapes, and vinyl records were stacked beyond the Plexiglas in the recording/ meeting room. There was much historic appreciation here; a museum. Brie thought most of it foreign and some familiar.

She saw a mirror by the bathroom that resembled a bar alleyway. The sink was taken from the old Chinese place, the mirrors taken after the old coffee shop remodel, and the bathroom stalls were just old and hardly touched.

For two to three hours into the night she went on a boredom escapade, blowing her hair from her face, twisting her arms around, echoing noises, and relaxing on the floor, doing cartwheels, and summer salts, and even some resistance training.

Then it occurred that she might want to lie down on that average used couch in the living space. Before she could, the nob turned on the door. Quickly Brie shut the light off, trembling back into a hidden corner space with her backpack.

The door opens, enters a serious looking young man-tall, older than brie. Foster. His hair was short, thick -free standing, his eyes were of a forty year old man, and his face looked stubbed shaved with a cheap razor, fair auburn hair, rough skin. He wore a plain shirt and jeans, fleece jacket.

Exhausted, he tossed his pack to the side, near the glass end table with the magazines. He looked around as if he had missed an appointment, finding no one was there. Then with angst, and many sighs he entered the bathroom to brush his teeth, discarding his plaid shirt along the way- it falls onto the floor, now wearing a white under shirt.

Brie tried moving closer to the door, but it was too late, she had to go for window or the balcony. Brie was set for the fire escape; she crawled on the floor to her next hiding spot, moving swiftly.

Foster passed by brushing his teeth, slicking his hair back with his hands, once, and, lifting a newspaper that appeared to have been left for him on Fennie's desk. It reads " Survival of the fittest or not?" He was perplexed, elevating the toothbrush from his mouth, his jaw slightly opened.

Brie was trembling, but confident that she would make it to the balcony opening.

"Shit" Foster said to himself, upset by what he was reading. Brie's heart was pounding. She moved once to adjust her foot, and almost colliding into a display rack making havoc.

Foster began to undress, first his white t shirt, then his pants.

Embarrassed, Brie looked away.

Brie knelt into the display rack dropping a stack of paper on the floor.

Foster sprang up.

FOSTER

hello? whose here?