ELENA
“How about this?” Nadine points out of the window toward a hall that stands by the outskirts of the road. The towering structure stands firm but the pale pastel walls evidence the old quality and probably the weakening structure.
There’s algae desperately fixed to the side of the wall, vines serpentining along the cracks and weed whistle to the command of the wind. It doesn’t look appealing based on the poor maintenance.
“I don’t think that will be appropriate,” I sigh, driving past the building.
“Who knew searching for venues will be this hard in your pack?” Nadine runs her fingers along her hair in dismay. Her face is fixed in obvious frustration, the worry lines crowding on her forehead.
“I know right? But trust me, we have to find something,” I say turning toward the road. T
