Int. Small urban house located in Detroit. Day. It’s raining and the sky is dark, but KIANA sits on a kitchen table, gazing out of the window waiting for her family members to wake up and join her. A crack of lighting shoots down from the heavens, illuminating all its surroundings. KIANA yawns loudly, closing her eyes in the process. When she opens them, MOTHER is standing before her, her hands on her hip.
Good morning, mom! Are you hungry? I made-
What do you plan on doing with your life?
Kiana sits silently for a moment, trying to decide the best way to answer her mother’s demand.
Only time will tell!
Mother’s facial expression, once unreadable, curls into a menacing scowl.
I’m serious, Kiana.
So am I. I don’t know…I’ll figure it all out. Eventually.
Mother sighs and rubs her temples in a manner capable only of parents of future homeless people.
I just want you to be successful. I want you to choose a suitable career path. And DON’T say writing. You will not be a writer.
Mom, SO MANY people are professional writers and do just fine! Like…like…Oscar Wilde!
OSCAR WILDE HAD SYPHILIS!
The word “syphilis” echos throughout the room, driving the point home.
Okay. Bad example.
Kiana, I wish you’d stop chasing silly dreams. Oh! I know! You could be a doctor!
I can’t be a doctor, mom.
I don’t see why not! My co-worker’s silly daughter is pre-med. If she can do it, you can, too.
Kiana raises a glass of orange juice to her lips, drinking slowly. She sets the glass back down on the table and it makes a faint clinking noise against the wood.
Well…technically, we’re all pre-med.
Mother sighs once more and leaves the room, leaving Kiana to eat her bacon in peace.