Cassandra Wilson was sitting with her feet up on her comfy couch. Cassandra is an African American woman in her late twenties. She is a woman of independent means. She is wearing a gray elbow-length V-neck crop top which left her midriff bare and a pair of black skinny jeans. She hopes to get married someday but isn't particularly looking for someone. Although she has a boyfriend, she isn't serious about him.

Cassandra is watching the latest episode of Survivor. She didn't watch it when it was first broadcast, she is watching it On-Demand from her cable company. She enjoys Survivor.

There is a knocking at her door, but it isn't her front door. The knocking is coming from the glass door that leads to her backyard.

Cassandra throws her legs off the couch and onto the floor. She is still wearing her black heeled sandals. She walked through the living room to the great room where the backdoor is located. She can see who is knocking. It is a white man. The man was wearing a green sweatshirt, with brown pants and white sneakers.

Cassandra doesn't know why any man was knocking at her back door, especially a white man she had never seen before. The man did look distressed though.

Cassandra slid back the glass door to talk.

“Sweetie, what's da matter?” she asks.

“Miss, you have to help me. They are after me. You have to hide me. I really need your help!” The words flew rapidly out of the man's mouth.

“Who's after you?”

“It's better if you don't know. Please help me!”

“Sure Sweetie, come on in.”

Cassandra allowed the man to pass into her house.

“Let's go where they can't see me.”

“Sure thing,” she said as she led him into the room where the TV was still playing.

Cassandra turned off the TV. “What's your name?”

“I'm Joe Elliot.”

“Good to meet you, I'm Cassandra.”

Joe took Cassandra's offered hand in his own and shook it.

“You're not in trouble with the law, are you?” Cassandra asked.

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then who?”

“Bad people. Real bad people. You really don't want to know. Just let me stay here for a little while.”

“No problem, Sweetie. Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you. You're very kind.”

“I always want to help people in trouble. I'm that type of person.”

“I can see that.”

“I need something to disguise myself when I leave here.”

“I don't have any men's clothing. Nothing that'll fit you. My man isn't your size.”

“I see.”

“But you know what? Maybe there is something of mine you can wear. Come with me.”