"How many roommates do you have?"

I ask her the question which makes her pace slow down to be able to hear me and for me to be able to hear her. Sasha looks at me, still walking, and then turns her head back to watch where she is going. For a brief second I think she is ignoring me. But as I stare into the golden mane draping down her back, I am surprised to hear her speak after such a brief and silent moment.

"I currently have two roommates," Sasha simply says to me. "Why do you ask, Marianne?"

I thought I was going to be asking all the questions but since she offers me hers I might as well answer it. "Well, if you live a condo, and also have two roommates, and you're offering me to stay in another room, does that mean your condo has four bedrooms?"

"That's right. And your point is?" she is suddenly brief with her answers but I don't really mind it. I mind to keep the conversation going by answering the question given.

"I just wanted to know how big the condo is," I simply say.

Giggling, Sasha tells me, "Oh, you'll see soon enough." I guess she doesn't really want to talk right now seeing that she always makes the conversation end so soon. She says this right before we end at the corner. This intersection, as seen before inside the truck, is a four-way intersection. To our left and right, the street is Sunrise Blvd and the street going straight in front of us and behind us going in the opposite is Thompson Avenue. The traffic light right now has cars turning left from Thompson onto Sunrise Blvd and the rest of the cars on both streets stopped at a red light.

Sasha pushes a silver button under a small signs with a stick figure and a white arrow point across the street. These button are sometimes similar and sometimes completely different than the ones in London. Since I've been here for five to six months, America I mean, I'm used to seeing them. On the other sidewalk corner, across the street, housed in a small cage-like box, is a red hand gesturing pedestrians to stop. I watch the traffic lights until they change. The green arrow pointing to left (the leftmost light on the horizontal bar of the streetlight) disappears one second and a yellow arrow glows above it. About seven seconds later, the yellow arrow disappears and a red arrow glows above it. The other lights, solid in color, changes from red to green signaling the traffic going straight on Thompson to continue on their way.

Sasha's pushing of the button, makes the red hand gesturing people to stop change into a white stick figure, signaling pedestrians to now walk across the street. Sasha wastes no time in getting across the street and I follow after her. On our sidewalk corner, nobody else was with us, but on the other side, there are bunch of ordinary people starting to walk across the street to our side. When we get to the center of the crosswalk, Sasha and I, we meet up with the people walking towards the other corner. In the group were what looked like college students, most of them females. Most had backpacks with two straps and one guy had one with his skateboard strapped to the back of it. Most of the girls had purses too. They looked like they were either leaving class or going to class. I didn't let it bother me though.

During our walk, I realize what a boulevard is, usually. In the center of Sunrise Blvd, is a flat, rocky island made out of concrete and smooth, round rocks, meant to separate oncoming lanes. My observation of this makes me walk slower further distancing myself from Sasha. When I realize I'm falling behind, I speed-walk back behind Sasha. As I near the corner, the stick figure glowing in the cage-like box disappears and changes into the same red hand, but now it's flashing red, making people know that the time to walk is almost over.

Once we get to the sidewalk, a iron sign, embedded in the street side part of the wall on the corner was labeled as, "Julius Springs" in bold uppercase lettering. Sasha leads me into a triangular plaza. This plaza had the same colors as the condominium she lived in. Concrete, brick, and orange painted cement was the layout of the floor of the plaza. In this plaza, a huge, rusted-copper fountain spewing clear water sat near the corner near the streetlights. Around this fountain was a ledge meant for people to sit at. Around the ledge was a tall, but not that tall, wall made with the same materials as the floor of the plaza. Sitting on this wall was upright palm leaves and potted flowers. A ledge sat next to the wall on the plaza side, not the street side.

The rest of the plaza had the same surrounding walls as the fountain, complete with potted flowers and upright palm leaves. Within the walls sat permanent concrete and tile chairs with matching tables. Around the table sets were large potted plants. Where Sasha was leading me was through the plaza, and then out a separation between walls and out towards the front door. The front door wasn't a regular door. This door was a simple, pull-to-open door, but the exterior of it was amazing. Outside the door stood a white, rectangular pavillion, complete with ledges on the inside for people waiting outside, and with a functional roof for those who wants to get out of the rain. The exterior of the condo had no lack of foliage or plants and the like.

Sasha continues to enter without waiting for me. I am almost left outside until realize. I catch the closing door that Sasha minds to open all the way for me. I enter without any struggle. The temperature inside is much, much cooler than the outside. In actuality it's quite chilly for me, making me zip up my hoodie all the way. I can't do much for my feet since I have slippers on, so I might as well endure the cold breeze bouncing off the marble floors. Speaking of marble flooring, the lobby area is an elegant and relaxing place to be.

If I stand right by the door, I can see everything in the lobby. To my right, sunken into the floor is a lounge area. In this lounge, the flooring changes from marble to soft, suede-like carpeting, and which changes once you get down into the lounge by the surrounding staircase. On the far wall to the right is a elegant fireplace, which when at night, when it's turned on, creates a soothing, warm atmosphere. Directly in front of me are the occasional, lined-up, wooden benches with swaying, potted plants next to them. If I was to walk fifteen meters into straight ahead of me, I would be at the reception desk. To my left are two wooden doors leading to the men's and women's bathrooms. To the right of the front desk, through a silver door with blurred glass, is the gymnasium. To the left of the front desk, I can clearly see tables and chairs. Probably that area is like a small food court with coffee and expresso machines and vending machines.

Again, I'm left at the front door to observe the lobby and Sasha continues to the front desk. Again, I'm late in realizing that I'm slow or being left behind, and I dash to the front desk to the left side of Sasha. I get there in time to hear the person behind the desk, a young woman dressed in a orange, button-up, long-sleeve shirt, greet Sasha.

"Hello, Miss Sasha," the young woman behind the desk greets my sister with a smile.

"How are you, Monica?" she responds with a question.

"I'm doing good, thank you. Can I help you with anything?" after thanking my sister for the friendly concern, Monica, the secretary behind the desk, extends an offer of help.

"I do want that fourth keycard for my sister here," Sasha responds.

"Your sister? You never told me you had a sister," Monica says to Sasha while glancing at me with unusual grins.

Adding a friendly remark, Sasha says, "That's because you never asked." Both women laugh at her remark.

"Now for the keycard, I need some form of identification to verify some things," Monica says to both of us, my sister and I, when she could easily say to me. Plus the way she says, 'things,' makes me feel like I'm really a foreigner, and not just a Americanized foreigner.

I stand the suitcase I'm pulling upright and go to my purse hanging underneath my right arm. I open and it and find my I.D. card right in the very middle for easy access. I take it out and give it to Monica, the deskperson. She gladly takes it from my hand with her right hand and places it on the counter near a keyboard connected to a flat computer monitor in front of her. Now with both hands on the keyboard in a typist fashion, Monica gets ready to input the information from my card into the computer. I assume her typing speed is sufficient enough to type essays in less than than minutes by the quickness she inputs my information from my I.D. card. After a minute or two, she gives back my card which I quickly place back into my purse. Monica takes the mouse, that sits on a peach-colored pad right next to the keyboard, and moves it so that whatever cursor she has will press certain buttons on the screen. Thirty seconds later, she walks to her left and gets a keycard and places it within a machine. From my position I can't really see what's happening but the sounds make it seem that information is being transferred from the computer to the keycard.

After all the whirring sounds from the unfamiliar machine subside, Monica takes the keycard from the machine and gives it to me. "Here you go. All you need to do is slide it into the card slot and quickly take it out. That will unlock the door," she tells me as she is handing me the keycard. "Thank you, you have a good day."

"Thank you," Sasha says to Monica. She says it right before I can say 'thank you' to Monica in a way that leave me hanging with something to say but unable to say it. This isn't much of a care to Sasha, since she immediately leaves the desk and walks to the right, where a brightly-lit room is located. I quickly follow behind my sister and enter into the room. This room isn't really a room at all but like a small hallway. In this area of the lobby small tiles in colors of red, orange, and peach, as well as dark colors of purple, and red violet, form a circle that has the name of the condo circling around it. In this room-like hallway are two elevators, one to the left and one to the right. A staircase lies directly in front. It is what houses the staircase that is letting light bathe the interior. The staircase is surrounded by curved panes of glass in the shape of a silo.

Sasha already has pressed the up button next to the elevator on the right. I look to see the top of the elevator, where numbers indicate which floor the elevator car is on. Right now it's at the fifth level and slowly counting down to the fourth and third. After it passes the first level, the letter G at the leftmost end glows. The silver doors of the elevator part revealing an almost empty elevator but with a person inside.