#x-manson

Her room is very small. It is 12 feet by 10 feet, not including the bathroom that was once a closet. Along one wall there is a steel kitchenette unit that was once lime green. It contains a sink and a refrigerator that is so small that it puts the place in violation of the building codes. Next to the kitchenette is a small table with a kitchen chair. There are papers on the table, neatly stacked. They are the weekly problem sets turned in by 231 first year physics students at the University of Saskatchewan, where she works as a teaching assistant. There is a cheque on the table as well, still in its envelope. It is for a very small amount of money, less than half of what the alcoholic prostitute downstairs collects on Disability.

The "she" in question is Kitty Pryde of the X-Men. The sets of 231 first year physics papers are in reference to how Kitty was portrayed as exceptionally bright, gifted even in her earliest appearances.

She also sleeps in the room. There is a small bed in one corner that she sits on. There is a plastic milk crate in one corner. A 13 inch colour television and a VCR sit on the crate. The remainder of the room is filled in by bookcases. There are two that block the two windows, nailed into place with two-by-fours. The bookcases are filled with expensive books on physics that were borrowed or stolen from a number of prairie university libraries. There is another bookcase and a file cabinet blocking the door, which is also sealed off by two-by-fours. None of this stops her from getting in and out. Her landlord could care less, as long as he gets his cheque each week. Not that he would complain if he did enter. The entire room and its attached bathroom are spotlessly clean from the orange shag carpet to the offwhite spackled ceiling.

She sits on the bed. She is of average height for a woman, 64 inches tall. Her brown hair is cut short, very short. She is slight, the kind of slightness that comes from potential fatal illnesses of psychological origin. She stares. It unnerves people, drives them away. The only ones who don't notice are the ex-psychiatric patients who live in her house and her street. She is the only person who is not living there because she has no other choice.

No-one is upset now by her staring, because she is alone and staring at the television. It is tuned to the local CBC affiliate. The National has just finished, and now there will be a documentary. She is going to watch the documentary. On her table is the receipt from the counselling centre, where she went when she discovered that the documentary was going to be shown uncut.