Erika

Erika enters the abandoned apartment. Her umbrella leaves a trail of drops on the floor. A wet spot forms when she puts her umbrella down. Eighty-two boxes are already packed in the hallway. Nobody in her family ever liked this apartment. Too cramped, too dark, too much of a compromise. Now it must look neat. Prospective buyers will be here soon. Erika walks into the bathroom and puts a bucket into the bathtub. The water roars and hisses as it shoots out of the faucet. Erika lifts the full bucket out of the bathtub, adds soap, and dips a rag in to mop the area where the kitchen counter used to be. That decades-old grime is hard to remove. With a quick swing, Erika dumps a good amount of soapy water onto the floor. It forms a nice puddle on the tiles. She gets another full bucket and pours it out in the middle of the room. The water runs quickly through the tile joints in all directions. Some of it trickles into the hallway. Erika needs more water. When she opens the wardrobe, towels spill out at her. She fetches a couple of them to block the drains in the bathroom and opens the faucets. The overflow gurgles and spits as the water reaches the top of the sink, but the towels hold tight. Water runs down the outside of the sink, collects on the trap, and drips onto the floor. Erika sits down on the edge of the bathtub and puts a hand into the water. It slowly creeps up her arm, reaches the edge of the bathtub, flows over, reaches the hallway, and the moving boxes. They greedily absorb it and begin to shrivel. Soon, the floor-length curtains in the living room will be soaked too.