INT. VERA AND AUNT VERA'S KITCHEN - NIGHT

The swinging door to the kitchen flies open. Enter storm Vera. The light is on. The kitchen is neat, but dingy, with threadbare tablecloth and curtains, a picture of Einstein on the wall, and a few dishes in the sink. Vera beelines for the fridge retrieving a pair of Battery drinks hanging from a plastic six pack ring thing. Whirling toward the backdoor she sees her AUNT VERA watching her.

Aunt Vera is an aging prostitute. Her hardened face folds over strong cheekbones and hangs on laughing eyes. She is never without an unfortunately bright shade of lipstick. Her black eyeliner is badly smudged.

AUNT VERA
(Shaking her head.)

Where are you going at this hour?

VERA

To work Auntie, to work, to work, to work, to work.

AUNT VERA
(Throws up her hands.)

Ai yi yi. What kind of girl goes to work at this hour?

VERA

What kind of girl? Don't start with me Auntie. Don't even start.

Vera's out of the backdoor. Sound of car starting up.