Fourth Floor

Apartment #404

"Hey, you okay, man?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Should we take it from the top?"

"No, not right now. You don't look too good."

"I said I'm fine!"

"..."

"..."

"You're clearly not. Did your parents say something?"

[Strong exhale.]

"Obviously. I just managed to escape and come here before Dad threw his shoes at me."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Nah. It's just the usual."

"You're always welcome here, you know."

"I know. That's why I came here, you idiot. And I'm sorry we have to keep using your apartment for practice instead of my garage. I know that old lady keeps telling you off and -"

"It's okay, bro. I can handle it."

"..."

"..."

"Do you think we're hurting her too much?"

"When did you become so considerate?"

"Ever since my father beat my sister senseless and put her in a coma for three months while my mother watched everything happen without saying a word of interference."

"..."

"Sorry, that was uncalled for."

[Another deep exhale, from a different person, this time.]

"Well, we need to win the band contest in order for you to get that scholarship for college so we need to practice. We've explained to the old lady a million times but she refuses to understand because she thinks our entire generation is full of untrustworthy troublemakers. But that's not fair on us. I mean, we're minimizing our practice sessions to two times a day, both in the morning for only an hour each, so that she can at least get a good night's sleep. I don't see what more we could do."

"Yeah, you're right."

"Yeah, I am."

"...Thanks, man. For everything."

"Uh, it's okay. Should we take it from the top?"

"Yeah, let's go."