"A group of models just moved into my building..."

Every now and again you overhear the beginning, middle, or end of what seems to be an interesting conversation. If it's only the act of eavesdropping that you enjoy, then the story is nothing more than something that makes you smile and blush, frown in disgust, or roll your eyes in annoyance. But if you've taken a liking to creating characters and scenes, a snippet of such a conversation can lay the foundation for a novel, article, short story, or, in my case---a blog post.

Earlier today, as my friend and I walked on a sidewalk, we passed a man and woman who were walking together in the opposite direction. In the brief moment where my ears were allowed to tune in, I heard the man say to the woman, "A group of models just moved into my building---" . It was very amusing and so random a thing to hear. My friend, assuming they were a romantic couple, said, "That's nothing you tell your girlfriend." I just smiled as my imagination rushed to create a backstory of why this was of significance to either one of them.

As the sun went on with its brutal assault on my exposed skin and the interior of my "cute" shoes rubbed over the sensitive skin of both my pinkie toes, my creative center distracted my discomfort by filling in the gaps of the fascinating exchange about those models. I think it went something like this:

"Well, that damn cat isn't dead after all," the woman said. It came back last night, and meowed and scratched at the door louder than it ever has. Last time I ask my nephew to do me a favor."
"Oh yeh, you think you had a bad night. A group of models just into my building...again. In the unit above me...again. And get this, I met one in the elevator this morning, and she says her and her roomies just moved to the city from Tallahassee."
"Get out! How creepy is that, what the hell?"
"Yeh, I so need to move like right now. I mean, three years ago, three models move into the unit above me, two of them from Tallahassee. Two weeks later, those two are found dead up there. So, do I warn them of the evil ghost on the 4th floor that hates tall, thin chicks from Florida, or do I move? Because the other tenants all moved after that; so if these chicks end up dead too, it looks pretty suspicious that I just so happen to be the only one still there from when the first ones died."
"Wow, yeh, you should move. Hungry? I want some pasta."