Delacey writes “my man” in red lipstick on the bathroom mirror. Her boyfriend sits on the bed.
Wearing a coat, she stands on the balcony, holding binoculars.
Wearing a white bra and underwear, she lies on the bed, the sunlight creating a line around her eyes.
Back in her coat, she leans against a statue and sits on a couch inside the home. She touches the framed photos with her gloved hands.
Her boyfriend walks in the garden.
The fish swim in the aquarium while she dances by the kitchen table. She lounges on the chair while he walks on the patio. She takes off her dress in the bedroom and lies on the bed. He stands by the bed, his hands in his pockets.
She peers out of the lace, rust orange curtain.
Delacey places her boxes in the basement. She unpacks some of the clothes and puts them in the drawer. She takes her key and places it on the holder hanging on the wall. It was her home. For how long, she didn’t know. There must’ve been multiple young women like her who have slept on the bed with her boyfriend. They surely must come over when she’s gone. She loves him but he’s not hers alone.
Her boyfriend kisses in the morning and tells her if she had enough space. She nods “yes” and asks him what he plans to do for the day. He says he’s going to the cafe to pick them up some breakfast. She says she’ll see him soon. There was a hostess who talked to him while he took their order. She had often seen her talking to him online. She had only met her once or twice. But it was as though she knew her from her tags and responses to him.
She runs her hand along the olive velour on the couch. She fixes the the still life paintings of oranges and apples hanging on the wall. She waits. But she won’t go.
Director: Jessie Hill Year: 2019