Opening Act, Thea

At first glance, the building looks like any other apartment building she had viewed in the past two days. The walls are a dull gray color, built with efficiency in mind, not aesthetic. Erect some time in the sixties or seventies, a budget option for people in need of a place to stay at. Thea rolls her tongue against the inside of her cheek, looking at the crack that crawls up one side of the building. But there are no suspicious spots in front of the entrance and the windows don’t look like someone hammered them shut. They aren’t even all that dirty. Considering where the building is located, it looks much better than all the places she has checked out already.

She strolls up the staircase to the double doors that lead inside. The hinges of the door don’t even creak or squeak – this obnoxious habit does tend to form once no one looks after them anymore. Her eyes stray to the clear glass panels let into the doors. Not a single fingerprint to be found, nothing that would point towards frequent use. Things go almost a little too well, and she braces herself for – something, anything. Stains on the carpeted floors that welcome her or a strange scent. Instead, Thea meets the friendly gaze of a woman sitting at a front desk.

“Welcome,” she greets with a dimpled smile, broad and honest. Thea searches for dishonesty in her expression or for that a-little-too-wide quirk of the lips that declares strain. But again, there is nothing but a hospitable person, wanting to ease her into her stay. “You must be Miss Powell, yes? I was told you are here for a viewing of one of our apartments.”

Visitors must be a rare occurrence, Thea thinks and nods her head. The friendly receptionist nods in return. Happy up and down bobbing of the head. “Oh how delightful. I am Sandra Doe, but please, call me Sandy,” she says and gets up from behind her seat, gesturing around her. “This is the lobby, by the way. Let’s go up to the apartment, shall we?” Thea blinks at the name, but hides her reaction with a polite nod.

Her eyes wander the lobby as they pass through it. Sandy chatters a pointless chatter as Thea takes in the faded luxury this place must have symbolized once. There is a gold-encased clock up on the wall, close to a landscape painting. Hunting dogs chasing down a fox in a lush forest. A little grim for Thea’s taste, but the brush strokes are divine, and her mind is occupied by imagining the price, when Sandy guides her to the elevators. She smiles warm and bright at Thea’s gobsmacked expression.

“Sandy, I have to be absolutely honest,” Thea begins, once they have left the elevator for a pristine corridor. Clean carpets and a bouquet of sunflowers on a table by a window. “I don’t think this house fits my budget.”

“Oh dear, how silly of me. You must be terribly intimidated,” Sandy says and grasps Thea’s hands in hers. The gesture, strangely, puts Thea’s heart at ease. “The Grande Hawke is very accommodating and affordable for all. Don’t worry.”