Central Ventura Heights.

"The Central Ventura Heights?" Dr. Holden asks surprised. "You don't live in Meadows Hill anymore?"

"Unfortunately, no. Me and the girls got tired of the view so we moved to the city," Sasha tells him.

When Sasha said girls, I keep thinking in my mind that I'm going to be living with my sister's roommates. I might be calm in saying that I have to pay for my room, but I might freak out that I have to live with people I don't know too well.

Dr. Holden takes the car out of park and releases the foot brake. He maneuvers the car so that it is going towards the left side of his clinic but on the main road. I try to stay awake so that I can get the layout of the city as well as the street names. I don't even pay attention to the orange muscle car sitting in parking lot of Dr. Holden clinic.

The time of day we departed from the clinic, was around three in the afternoon. I can say that this is the time when kids gets out of school and parents pick them up, young adults finishing up their shopping routines, and a few working class people preparing for the afternoon rush. This calls for more cars on the road than during the morning hours. At the first intersection we come up, the light is pack with cars. Cars ranging from minivans to sedans fill the lanes. An occasional sports car or tuner may show a bit wealth in the street as well. I try to pay attention to the green and silver street signs hanging off the light poles.

The sign labeling the street that Dr. Holden wants to turn left on says, "Ventura Blvd," and the sign labeling the street we are currently on says, "Dawson Avenue." Dr. Holden gases the truck and turns left, following a much smaller car in front of him, after the light turns green. Now that I think of it, I wonder why the last street we were on was called Dawson Avenue. The name Dawson rings a bell but I can't seem to remember where I caught it from. Maybe it's called that by some nearby location. Or maybe the people who built San Denali came up with random names to label the streets.

A little ways on the Ventura Boulevard, I notice something familiar. As the street veers to the left towards another intersection, I see the same police station that I went to when I was arrested and where I was violated. I also remember the street with the median. Since it was dark that night, I couldn't see the tall palm trees in the flowery median. That night I could read the sign but now that it's daytime, I can clearly see it. As the truck passes the median-street, I get a clear glance at the street sign. It says, "North Skyview Boulevard" on the green and silver sign hanging from the horizontal pole.

About three miles down the boulevard, I see a tall overpass stretching over the street, casting a dark shadow from the sun shining down upon it. Numerous cars and trucks enter and exit the highway's on and off ramps. I catch a glimpse of the highway name on a sign bolted to steel brackets on the side of the highway, low enough so people can see. The sign says, "Lakeside Highway Southbound" and a white arrow pointing to the right towards an onramp. This is probably because it is heading towards the south.

Continuing on the current street, a red light glows after an orange light disappears. Cars slow down and stop at the limit line. I turn my head and squint my eyes to better read the faraway sign. The sign labeling the street perpendicular to our current street reads, "Thompson Avenue." I see that Dr. Holden frantically maneuvers the truck so that he can turn left. This probably why the truck is in the lane but in a crooked position. Sasha might have told him at the last second to turn left but I was busy trying to see the sights and street signs.

The light turn green after two minutes of waiting and the flow of traffic flows again. Dr. Holden minds to switch to the rightmost lane on Thompson since he heard Sasha say under her breath.

"So this is what the Central Heights looks like," the doctor says in amazement and awe. I agree with him. The place around the doctor's clinic are like tall trees compared to his two-story building. Around the clinic, I believe someone can't even find any landmarks worthy of noting. Well, maybe the tall skyscrapers can be seen but that is all you can find even walking on the sidewalk in the area. Central Ventura Heights, or whatever it's called, is a more friendly, comforting area than the busy workways around the clinic. I can say that the lowest building has up to five floors and the tallest building has up to thirty-five floors. That is much more lower than the area around the clinic, which has low building with twelve floors and high-rise buildings with forty to seventy-five floors.

Continuing on, we pass under a highway that doesn't have any on or off ramps connecting it to the roadway below. I do see a sign that goes to the right saying that to get on the highway, one must follow the arrows. The sign says "Fierro Highway On-Ramp" with a bold white arrow pointing to the right toward a side street, possibly an avenue. The roadway then veers to the right leading us into a place where every sidewalk has white lines one the side of the street and parking meters. I guess we enter a place that has many people arriving and leaving this place on a daily basis.

As the truck of the doctor nears the next intersection, already stopped at red, Sasha gets excited. She calls out to me from the front passenger seat, "Marianne, Marianne, look. That's it. That's my condo!" I can only gape my mouth in awe. I have never seen a building so elaborate, so comforting, and so unique. Continuing to observe the street signs, I see that the street perpendicular to ours is called "Sunrise Blvd."

The building had a silvery white primary color and a orange, maybe peach secondary color. By it's size and design style, accompanied with its colors, it stands out from among the surrounding buildings. The building stands having its short side facing the triangular plaza we see now and its long side parallel to the street on our right. The condo is so tall that I think it may have more than twenty floors.

Dr. Holden navigates his truck to the right, onto Sunrise Blvd, once the light glows green. He turns right on the street parallel with the long wall of the condo. On the right side of this street, many parking spaces are empty, allowing the doctor to find a parking garage easily among the foliage from the trees as well as the greenery growing on the concrete walls. He enters it and finds a convenient spot right away. This is because a Mercedes-Benz convertible had it prior to leaving.

Dr. Holden stops and turns off his truck and we all get out. Seeing that I have slippers on and exposing the skin of my feet, I immediately feel the cold air flowing out of the parking garage. The afternoon light flows in only about five meters into the garage until it's choked by the dim yellow light mixed with shadows. Right away, the doctor helps me get my yellow suitcases out of the back and offers to help me by bringing it up to the condo as well. But Sasha interrupts.

"Sorry, Luke. I have a strict 'No Males Allowed' rule so that means we're taking the bags up ourselves," Sasha says. Dr. Holden takes the gesture calmly and waste no time in closing the tailgate and getting back into the car. After walking my suitcases out to the sidewalk, Sasha and I wave goodbye to the doctor as he leaves the parking garage. His car distances itself to the next intersection where it is out of sight.

Sasha lead me down the sidewalk going in the opposite direction of Dr. Holden's truck. Since the walk to the intersection and supposedly the crosswalk is at least fifteen meters away, I ask Sasha a question that might spark a informative conversation.