Synopsis:
A young man awakes by a neglected wishing-well, mid-morning. Behind him lurks a development of luxury flats, eerily silent as their occupants are all at work.
The man approaches the hulking blocks and slips inside unnoticed. Once within, he stalks the corridors before breaking in to the penthouse suite.
He paces and cases the flat, with its pristine interiors before finally getting to work by…popping on the kettle. Whilst waiting for the brew, he proceeds to the bathroom where he showers, shits and shaves.
Fully-refreshed, he grabs his brew, plonks himself down on the sofa, turns on the plasma screen and lets daytime television wash over him. Feeling well and truly ensconced he actually makes a call to a live television phone-in – tickling the TV presenters with his cheeky banter.
Next up is lunch, when he carefully measures out tiny portions of several staple items so as their slight diminishment is not noticed by the owner. He mixes these together in an unseemly stir-fry, but enjoys this nonetheless.
He is briefly spooked by the door-knock of a charity collector, who senses someone is at home before eventually moving on. Undeterred he begins scouring the Yellow Pages and makes several calls enquiring for casual work – but to no apparent joy.
As the afternoon draws to a close, he readies himself to leave, but not before putting his hands in his pockets. He pulls out a handful of silvers and coppers and then pulls back the sofa cushions to reveal a stash of previously donated ‘day rents’. He looks mildly disappointed that the owner hasn’t yet discovered them, but leaves his latest offering in the knowledge that some day the owner will be rewarded with a pleasant little surprise down the back of his sofa.
With that, he exits the flat as inconspicuously as he entered and retires to the wasteland wishing-well. There he bides his time as darkness falls before pouncing again, to make himself at home in the flat of an unsuspecting nocturnal worker he has observed.
A young man awakes by a neglected wishing-well, mid-morning. Behind him lurks a development of luxury flats, eerily silent as their occupants are all at work.
The man approaches the hulking blocks and slips inside unnoticed. Once within, he stalks the corridors before breaking in to the penthouse suite.
He paces and cases the flat, with its pristine interiors before finally getting to work by…popping on the kettle. Whilst waiting for the brew, he proceeds to the bathroom where he showers, shits and shaves.
Fully-refreshed, he grabs his brew, plonks himself down on the sofa, turns on the plasma screen and lets daytime television wash over him. Feeling well and truly ensconced he actually makes a call to a live television phone-in – tickling the TV presenters with his cheeky banter.
Next up is lunch, when he carefully measures out tiny portions of several staple items so as their slight diminishment is not noticed by the owner. He mixes these together in an unseemly stir-fry, but enjoys this nonetheless.
He is briefly spooked by the door-knock of a charity collector, who senses someone is at home before eventually moving on. Undeterred he begins scouring the Yellow Pages and makes several calls enquiring for casual work – but to no apparent joy.
As the afternoon draws to a close, he readies himself to leave, but not before putting his hands in his pockets. He pulls out a handful of silvers and coppers and then pulls back the sofa cushions to reveal a stash of previously donated ‘day rents’. He looks mildly disappointed that the owner hasn’t yet discovered them, but leaves his latest offering in the knowledge that some day the owner will be rewarded with a pleasant little surprise down the back of his sofa.
With that, he exits the flat as inconspicuously as he entered and retires to the wasteland wishing-well. There he bides his time as darkness falls before pouncing again, to make himself at home in the flat of an unsuspecting nocturnal worker he has observed.
