Susan is standing outside the white picket-fence gate of her house. Her white maisonette in a suburb estate has a designed, mahogany door. The upstairs and downstairs vertical sliding windows are open exposing plain pale-yellow curtains blowing in the wind. Her two front steps leads a cemented path to the gate dividing her carpet grass front lawn in two. Flowers have been planted on either side of the path and along the fence round the house. She has a round bird bath fountain on the right with birds splashing merrily.
Susan looks rather disillusioned despite her upright poise in a fitting, elegant, light-pink chiffon dress; straight, knee-high with shoulder length sleeves, a v-neckline and a short closed back-slit. Her mind is so far into space that she does not notice a short stubby man approaching her. “Excuse me….Ms……Excuse me” he calls cheerfully.
“Yes, can I help you?” answers Susan rather absent-minded as she turns to face him.
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