#all.open

Tethered to the spot by her green apron, Nancy couldn’t do anything more than look out the front window of Starbucks, watching as the start of a heated argument began to unfold. Her headset was askew, partially slid to rest around her neck and caught in her ratty hair, allowing her to hear every muffled shout that came from the pair circling each other in the parking lot. “Think they’re married?” She wondered aloud to whoever was closest, gaze never straying from the window -- maybe it’d turn physical if she wished for it hard enough. The woman was fuming, screeching like a banshee while the man kept making wild gestures, Nancy’s attention repeatedly drawn back to the bulging tendon in his neck (that should not have been so hot). An amused huff flared Nancy’s nostrils before she threw her voice, going mockingly deep as she pretended to read the man’s lips, “C’mon, baby, I told ya -- she’s just my cousin!” And to think she’d been planning to go out for a smoke during her break.

"We’re not lost,” Ethan retorted, squinting against the sun as he stared into the horizon, eyes stuck on the blurry point where the highway faded away in the distance. “We’re just... taking a fun little detour.” Unfortunately, though, this wasn’t the first unplanned stop of their trip. He never claimed to be an expert navigator (or even a good driver), but getting to the Grand Canyon from California really should’ve been easier than this. Where were all the tourist trap rest stops? The peppy road signs that made sure you found one of America’s greatest natural attractions? Obviously, he was missing something.

Pulled off onto the dusty shoulder of the road, lost somewhere in Southern California, Ethan shook his head as the occasional car whizzed by. He’d left the driver side door open and slowly paced the length of the vehicle for the last ten minutes, repeatedly raising his cell to the sky in the hopes that Google Maps would reload. But, so far, no such luck. Kicking up dirt and still glaring at his phone screen, he dropped down to halfway sit on the front bumper. “You getting any service?” He asked, not yet ready to admit defeat -- or the damning fact that they were running low on gas, too.

Admittedly, he was in a little bit of a time crunch, but it didn’t stop Dylan from wandering through the snack aisles of CVS first, swiping a bag of Cheetos before continuing on his valiant search for lube. He couldn’t tell if he was just missing it or if he should’ve stopped at Walgreens instead, but he found himself stuck on a loop, weaving up and down the individual aisles with a stubborn glare against the bright fluorescents above. “Where the fuck...” Dylan muttered, eyebrows pinching together. Finding K-Y Jelly shouldn’t have been a scavenger hunt. His steps stalled, looking up from a messy endcap to survey the store, finding to be just as deserted as you’d expect any CVS to be at 9 PM. “Hey --” He called out to the clerk, chin tipping up. “Can I get some help over here?”

“Hey, hey! Can you hold the elevator?” Theo called out, making a weak attempt at a whisper-shout. He looked like the definition of a mess; short hair mussed from sleep, suit jacket wedged under his arm, his tie left undone and hanging around his neck as he tried to silently close the apartment door in front of him. There was still a quiet click that echoed out in the otherwise silent hall of the high-rise complex -- 8AM on a Sunday inevitably wasn’t a popular hour for the residents. Theo, on the other hand, wasn’t a resident at all. He’d been an unthoughtful, overnight ‘guest’ who was now making a quick escape as he stepped onto the elevator, sleek doors just beginning to close behind him. “Thanks,” Theo started, a slow smile gracing his features as he glanced to the person beside him. They looked familiar, like maybe he’d been caught in this same elevator too many times -- Theo made a mental note to start seeing Veronica less. “I would’ve hated to take the stairs.” 

“So, you do realize that I’m a life coach and not miracle worker, right?” Vanessa’s eyes were as wide as saucers as she looked around the mess of an office. She shook her head, resisting the urge to frown as she made a beeline for the other’s desk. “In my professional opinion, you need a dude in a Ghostbusters jumpsuit to come in here and clear out the whole place,” she started, making a grand and inclusive gesture of the entire space before she began to pick through papers. “Start from scratch. --- God, do you even own a planner?”

Had bath salts made a comeback? Because something fucked up was clearly going on in the world. Caleb frowned as he stared at the television, finally realizing that an emergency news broadcast had taken over the random sitcom he’d left playing as background noise. There were warnings about cases of... cannibalism? Or it was something about vaccines and a guy in the area who had tried to eat his dog. He didn’t know or wait to hear the full story, instead flipping the channel and tossing the remote aside. Whatever was going on, Caleb didn’t particularly care, because for once in his life, he had the whole house to himself. With his parents on vacation and his sister still stressing at Yale, he’d made the executive decision to ditch Columbia and drive home for a long weekend of solitude. A long weekend that he planned to kickoff with entirely too much pizza.

“Coming!” He yelled as the melodic chime of the doorbell echoed throughout the massive home. He’d barely gotten off the couch before it was rang again and again, a frantic knocking on the front door being added as he made his way into the foyer. “Jesus, I said I was coming --” Caleb turned the deadbolt before yanking open the door, a frustrated glare already set in place. “You just cost yourself a tip,” he snarked, expectantly waiting for the pizza and a receipt to sign.

Meeting anyone from Craigslist was a questionable life choice, but deciding to meet them at night in the abandoned parking lot of what was once a Toys ‘R’ Us? Melanie might as well have been signing her own death warrant. The buzzing of the nearby lot light was doing nothing for her nerves, but she still thought that the risk was worth it for the vintage armchair that’d been listed. She chewed at her bottom lip as she continued to tap away at her phone, repeatedly firing off texts to a friend to reassure them that she hadn’t been dumped in a ditch -- yet. She looked up, doing another turning glance around the parking lot just in time to spot another car pulling up near her own. Melanie was quick to lift her cell to her ear, faking a call and speaking loud enough that the other would hear as they exited their vehicle. “Okay, yeah -- I’ll see you at home. Love you... James.” It was more threatening to make it seem like she had a big, strong husband at home, right? God, she needed to stop browsing Craigslist while she was ignoring work. Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket, she forced an uncertain smile and stepped forward. “Uh, you’re the chair person, right? And not here to rob me? I’m Melanie.”