Stuff

Darryl’s apartment is full of stuff: books, statues, globes, toys, gears, tools, clocks.  Brian looks at the newspaper clippings on the walls, but can’t discern a theme or pattern.  Some of them are hung upside down.

“It’s like that shed in A Beautiful Mind,” says Kasia, sitting on a stack of magazines.

“I hate that fucking movie.”

“Yeah.  Still.”

Through the door, there’s the wordless back and forth murmur of Darryl and Sean.

Kasia gnaws on her hair.  “When are they gonna be -”

“Three seconds.”

The door opens.  Darryl steps out, cleans his glasses, meets their eyes.

“Let’s do this.”

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